


Serendipity

by shadowsamurai



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-28
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-27 20:18:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 55
Words: 365,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/983169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsamurai/pseuds/shadowsamurai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Destiny was meant to be different. Fate had other plans. Jeffrey Sinclair was never meant to leave Babylon 5. And it seemed he was meant to be with someone different....</p><p>This story will go from pre-Season 1 to post-Season 4, covering every episode and keeping Sinclair in, focussing on a romantic (eventual) pairing between Sinclair and Ivanova. Sheridan will also be there, as well as everyone else! See first chapter for all the notes on the story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Story notes

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so as I realised it was time to start posting this, I also realised I didn't have a title! Summary has already been altered once from first posting, and it's entirely possible the title will also change along the way as 'Serendipity' was literally a spur of the moment thing. :)

Okay, this epic undertaking started in 2011, when I first put ideas to word document and began writing. I knew it was going to take me a while, I just didn't realise it was going to take this long! Between my muse going on an extremely long vacation and RL interfering all the time, I never thought I was going to finish it. I still haven't finished it (I don't have season 5 as of yet, so no Sleeping in the Light, and that's kind of important!) but at least I'm further on than I was a couple of months ago. My muse has returned rejuvenated and I have a little more time on my hands to actually write. So...this is a WiP, but it will be finished. I've never abandoned any of my stories and I'm not about to start now. :) It won't be updated every week, but once a month at least. I don't have the time to write like I used to, but I will not give this story up! (And it hasn't been beta'd so any mistakes are mine).

This is mainly about Sinclair and Ivanova, and bringing them together as a couple. Don't like, don't read, it's easy. And because it's about those two, most of the chapters will be focussing on their characters and on Sinclair in particular. Why? A few reasons. One, he's always been my favourite character and I'm always sad we only see him in season 1 (ignoring guest appearances). Two, I think he and Ivanova have a great chemistry, even just as friends. It's a challenge for me to take it one step further, while still keeping them in character. Three, as I just said, it's a challenge and I like challenges – it's also a challenge to keep Sinclair in all the episodes, while still having Sheridan present. Fun. Four, there isn't enough Sinclair fanfic out there. And five...it was sad to hear that Michael O'Hare died last year (2012) but when I learnt (as did everyone else) the truth behind his departure from the show, when they did the 20 year reunion (May 2013), my respect for the man shot up. (If you don't know what I'm talking about, search YouTube for 'J. Michael Straczynski's Promise (Babylon 5 Reunion)). The fans kept him going and he loved us for that. I'd like to do my part to see that Sinclair, and Michael O'Hare, aren't forgotten, and this work of fanfiction is it. Which is why I'm posting the first chapter today, on the first anniversary of his death.

And I don't think I can do better than the great JMS at all. I'm just playing.

(More) Boring stuff – the chronology of the episodes seem to be a subject of great debate, so I searched the internet for a few different timelines until I found one that seemed to do the job. Season 1 in particular is difficult to get straight because the order the episodes are on the DVDs is not the order they're meant to be in. This is the chronology I used from this site – **http://koti.phnet.fi/jarilaak/babylon5/chronology.html** – so please don't tell me the chapters aren't in the right order according to the episodes. It might be confusing (it certainly was for me writing them!) but that's the order I've chosen to use. Also, I've moved War Without End Pts 1  & 2 to Season 4 because it fits my fanfic better. :) So the section for Season 3 will be shorter and the one for Season 4 longer. And lastly, I'm using the '101' numbering for the chapter titles (meaning Season 1, episode 1) as well as the episode title. I've also used some dialogue from the episodes, but as little as possible. And where I have used dialogue, I haven't copied it word for word. So if it's not exact, it's deliberate. And some dialogue may be spoken by different characters. Again, deliberate. And the info for the characters history was taken from this site - **http://babylon5.wikia.com/wiki/**

I hope this works, I hope it all makes sense, and I hope at least one other person at there enjoys reading it. If not, I at least enjoyed writing it. :) And I hope it helps keep the memory of Sinclair, Valen, and Michael O'Hare alive.


	2. 100 Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ivanova arrives on Babylon 5.

_January 2258_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

She had seen the pictures, of course. Even on Io, she had followed the progress of the Babylon stations on ISN with interest, an interest that grew with each passing station. 1, 2 and 3 succumbing to accidents, 4 disappearing...Babylon 5 was almost legendary before it had even been completed. And the odds given of it surviving were slim, to say the least. As a Russian, newly promoted Lieutenant Commander Susan Ivanova appreciated the sense of pessimism – or realism, depending on your view - that surrounded the station. And with a sense of something almost akin to morbidity, she had kept up to date with the official stories, and the unofficial ones as well, and all the rumours pertaining to Babylon 5. She listened to what others thought of the place, and secretly she had her view on how long it would survive. Once that date had arrived and passed without incident, Ivanova decided that if she ever had the chance, she would have to visit the almost-fabled station.

Then a call from General Hague, an unexpected order that was thinly veiled as an offer. And Ivanova found herself leaving Io, which was no great hardship for her, travelling towards a place which seemed to be destined to become legend. Of course she had seen the pictures of Babylon 5, but the images did nothing to prepare her for the reality, and as the transport approached the station, all she could do was stare. It was bigger than the other stations, longer and clearly segmented. The colour was almost the same as the Earthforce uniform and Ivanova felt a surge of patriotism to her homeland, her hand twitching uncharacteristically, wanting to salute. She knew how to salute, of course; she was a soldier. But it wasn't something that was required on a regular basis, and not something she particularly enjoyed doing either.

“Babylon 5, this is transport _Midnight Falcon_ requesting permission to dock,” the pilot said, breaking Ivanova's adoring reverie of the station.

“Midnight Falcon, _this is Babylon 5. Permission to dock granted.”_

The rest of the instructions were lost on Ivanova as she listened to the person speaking. She wasn't sure who it was, but his timbre was deep, almost soothing, a voice she could listen to for hours on end. But now was no time to be distracted by personal issues; she had never let them get in the way of her career before, she wasn't about to start now. As the transport moved into the station, Lieutenant Commander Susan Ivanova straightened her uniform, briefly checked her appearance in the reflection of the glass, and went to collect her luggage.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Lieutenant Commander Laurel Takashima stood alone in the docking bay, her bags at her side. She hadn't expected Sinclair or Garibaldi to see her off. Their goodbyes had already been taken care of, and despite the flash of sadness she was feeling at leaving, she knew it was for the best. Although she was grateful for the chance Sinclair had given her, serving on a station, especially such a high profile one such as Babylon 5, just wasn't for her. As much as she had wanted it to be in the beginning. As much as she had wanted to stay. When the recall to Earth came, Takashima found she was actually relieved. It saved her hurting Sinclair's feelings; if she had left of her own accord, she would have felt like she was throwing everything he had done for her right back in his face.

As she waited for the transport to dock, she idly wondered who would be taking her place. Another Lieutenant Commander for sure. But who was available? She knew of a few, but none who would fit in on the station. It was a special place and needed a special person to take some of the burden from Sinclair, to cope with the oddities that seemed inherent to Babylon 5 and would never be encountered anywhere else.

The noise of the transport finally docking and the doors opening brought Takashima's focus back to the present. On that transport was her replacement, and she felt a sudden, irrational surge of jealousy. She didn't want the job any more, but she didn't want anyone else to have it.

“You're being stupid,” she admonished herself. “You're moving on to better things.”

Several people disembarked, all civilians, and Takashima suddenly had the uneasy feeling that a replacement had not been found. Then a striking woman with severely pulled back brown hair and a proud walk came towards her wearing Earthforce blue. She seemed focussed, cool, and then their eyes locked. In seconds they had sized each other up, the air growing thick with a certain amount of hostility, and Takashima couldn't help but wonder why. Then again, she didn't know what her fellow officer had been told, didn't know what she had heard, and decided to be the one to make the first move.

“Lieutenant Commander Laurel Takashima,” she said, stepping forward with her hand outstretched. “I take it you're my replacement?”

Ivanova nodded, tension still resting in her shoulders as she took Takashima's hand. “Lieutenant Commander Susan Ivanova.”

“Recently stationed on Io?”

“That's right.”

Takashima sighed. “Look, I don't know how much you know already, but it seems to me that this is the best for both of us. This is a step up for you, and hopefully for me as well. Chances are we won't even see each other again. Neither of us are a threat to the other.”

Ivanova studied her for a moment. “Is there anything important I should know so I don't make too many blunders on my first day?” she asked, her tone one of peace offering.

“We don't have the time for me to list them all,” Takashima replied with a faint smile. “I will say a couple of things, though. Watch out for Mr Garibaldi. He may act like a fool, and he does enjoy his practical jokes, but his instincts are good and he's damned good at his job. Jeff wouldn't have brought him on board otherwise.”

“Jeff?” Ivanova repeated, her eyebrows raised.

Takashima's smile turned rueful. “Sorry, habit. You'll find everyone can be quite informal around here. And it isn't always a bad thing.”

“I see. What's the other thing, aside from Mr Garibaldi?”

Takashima stared at a spot off to one side, gathering her thoughts. “Commander Sinclair is...a complex person. Pay attention to everything he does; he never does anything without having thought it through thoroughly first. Sometimes he can seem almost irrational in his decisions, but he isn't. He will always do what's best for this station, its crew and residents, of that you can be sure. And he'll never ask you for anything. Just give him your undivided trust and I'm sure you'll do just fine.”

“I'll do my best,” Ivanova replied. “As long as his actions don't endanger this station, or his self, I'm sure we'll get along just fine.”

“I wouldn't make any bets on the latter,” Takashima warned her. Then she cocked her head slightly to one side, listening to the announcement. “That's my flight.” She held her hand out again. “Good luck, Lieutenant Commander.”

“And to you, Lieutenant Commander,” Ivanova said as they shook. “And thank you.”

“Don't mention it.” Takashima was halfway up the ramp when she remembered something. “One last thing; how do you feel about breaking the rules?”

Ivanova's expression was unreadable. “I would say it depends on the situation.”

“There's a coffee plant in the hydroponics garden. It's mine, but I can't take it with me.”

“Isn't that illegal?”

“No one's found it yet,” Takashima said with a shrug. “And it would be a shame to let it die. The beans will be ready for picking soon, though there's only enough for one person.”

Ivanova took precisely one second to decide what to do. “I'm sure some kind soul will take care of it for you.”

“Thank you.” With that, Takashima turned and boarded the transport, not looking back again at all, not when the doors closed, not when the transport left the station. As far as she was concerned, Babylon 5 was behind her now. Her future lay ahead.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova was lost. She would never have admitted it in a million years, but judging from the looks she was receiving from some people, it was pretty obvious. She was both confused and annoyed that no one had met her at the docking bay; not an auspicious start, to be sure. And now she was wandering around looking like some damned tourist. Babylon 5 was living up to its pessimistic, and rather Russian, reputation, at least in Ivanova's eyes.

When she heard footsteps coming up behind her at a speed, she automatically flattened herself against a wall to get out of the way. Whoever it was sounded like they were in a hurry and she certainly didn't want to be an obstacle in their path. A man in a grey Earthforce uniform, marking him as security, was approaching fast, but slowed when he saw her. He was tall, with thinning hair that stuck up almost like the Centauris. He was well built, and his eyes were shrewd yet mischievous.

“Lieutenant Commander Ivanova?” he said, gasping as he halted in front of her.

Ivanova was surprised, but hid it well. “Yes?”

“Security Chief Michael Garibaldi. I'd offer to shake hands...when I stop shaking....” He was almost doubled over, his hands on his knees as he gulped in great amounts of air, although she was certain he wasn't that unfit. “There was some confusion...okay, there was a lot of confusion, which is normal for around here, as you'll see soon enough.” He straightened then, his eyes still locked on hers. “The Commander thought I was coming to meet you, I thought he was going to do it, there was a Narn and a Centauri involved, and don't even _start_ me on the pink elephants.”

Ivanova fought against smiling as she replied dryly, “Ah, we have a comedian.”

“Just keeping things real, Lieutenant Commander, and believe me, it ain't easy around here.” Garibaldi then gave her a genuine, warm smile and jerked his head up the corridor. “Come on, I'll take you to meet Commander Sinclair. Someone will take you bags to your quarters.”

Ivanova gave in gracefully and tried not to look too relieved at being 'rescued'. “Very well, Mr Garibaldi. Lead the way.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

During their short journey, Garibaldi filled Ivanova in on a few essential details regarding the running of Babylon 5. It was obvious Sinclair held the security chief in high regard and treated him almost like a second-in-command, or at least that was Garibaldi's take on things. It would be interesting to see if Sinclair agreed. Which led Ivanova to another thought; whose voice had she heard on approach to the station? It obviously wasn't Garibaldi's, which meant it was either a technician or the Commander himself. If it was the former, it was no big deal, but if it was the latter...having to work with the man in close quarters constantly.... Ivanova had no doubt whatsoever that if that was the case, her posting to the station could easily and quickly turn into one of the worst moves she had ever made. She was already torn between regretting accepting it and looking forward to the challenge. There was something about the whole set up that seemed markedly different from any other posting she'd had, perhaps due to the heavy alien influence. Perhaps it was the informality she sensed, which Takashima had told her about also.

“Here we go,” Garibaldi said, ushering her into a room, breaking her reverie.

The first thing Ivanova noticed was the strange decoration on the wall, a combination of circles and a triangle which seemed strangely familiar in an impossible way to her. Then there was the sense of the room; calm, collected, but strong. And then she realised it wasn't the room which was giving off those feelings, it was the man sat behind the desk. The man who rose so smoothly to his feet, like a warrior, the man who was as tall as Garibaldi, as broad in the shoulder but narrower in the waist, and with dark amber eyes that seemed soulful and endless. The man who looked like he should have been a diplomat, not a fighter. The man who Ivanova couldn't stop staring at for some unfathomable reason. And who was also staring back at her.

“Sorry about the confusion,” he said finally, breaking the spell between them. “Some days nothing goes right around here.” He spoke in an easy manner, making her feel comfortable with just those few short words, but it was his voice more than what he said that captured her. It was the voice she had heard on the transport, a voice which seemed to reach into the deepest recesses of her soul and stir something which had been lain dormant for millennia.

In order to bring order back to herself, Ivanova saluted crisply. “Lieutenant Commander Susan Ivanova reporting for duty, sir.”

Sinclair held a smile in check as he saluted back, then allowed it to break free as he offered her his hand. “Commander Jeffrey Sinclair.”

There was no outward sign that he was as captivated by her as she was by him. No glimpse of recognition in his face, yet it burned like a fire within him. He had never felt this way before about anyone; not Carolyn, not even Catherine. There was _something_ about this woman...who was now his second-in-command. Already anything more than colleagues and perhaps friends was completely out of the question, yet Sinclair could not help but think the decision was out of his hands, like many things in his life, it seemed.

“I trust Mr Garibaldi has been briefing you on how things stand here?” Sinclair asked, still smiling.

Ivanova had forgotten about the security chief and she cursed herself for her lack of concentration. The man in front of her was now her superior officer; maybe a friend in time, but nothing more. Could _not_ be anything more than that, and it was best to stop her emotional train before it crashed. But in that one comment, Ivanova saw that Garibaldi had indeed called it as it was; she could see that Sinclair would rely on him as much as her with the running of the station, and strangely enough, it didn't bother her.

“He told me some...interesting facts, sir,” Ivanova replied.

“Smooth,” Garibaldi commented from his post leaning against the door frame. “Jeff, are you sure you haven't been coaching the Lieutenant Commander in diplomacy already?”

Sinclair sighed and caught Ivanova's eye. “You'll have to excuse Mr Garibaldi, Lieutenant Commander. Someone once told him he was funny and he believed them.”

“Don't worry, Commander, I'm sure I can handle Mr Garibaldi.” Ivanova then gave the security chief a sweet smile, like a hunter gives its prey, and he visibly backed down. For Sinclair, it was a moment of great pleasure.

“I'm glad to hear it. Now, I'm sure you'll want to settle in. Mr Garibaldi will show you to your quarters. Your first shift starts at 0600 tomorrow. I'll be on the command deck to run through things with you.”

“Yes, sir.” Ivanova saluted again.

Sinclair smiled once more at her. “You don't have to do that around here, Lieutenant Commander, unless of course you want to.”

She allowed herself a slight smile in return. “Not particularly, sir.”

“Good.” He studied her face once more before nodding. “Dismissed, Lieutenant Commander. See you at 0600.” He glanced at Garibaldi. “Chief.”

“Commander.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“And this is you.” Garibaldi stood to one side and let Ivanova enter her quarters. “I don't know what you're used to....”

“It's huge!” she exclaimed.

Garibaldi smiled. “Privilege of rank. Oh, and it has a shower.”

“A vibe shower?”

His smile turned into a grin. “No, a proper shower.”

She turned slowly to look at him. “With running water?”

“Sometimes it's even hot.”

“Don't you have somewhere to be?” Ivanova asked him archly, but not nastily.

He held his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, I'll leave you to settle in.” His expression grew serious. “If you need anything at all, just raise me or the Commander on your link.”

“Thank you.”

Garibaldi nodded and turned away, the door swinging shut behind him. Ivanova took a few moments to just stare at the space she had been given to live in. Compared to some places she had stayed, it was almost plush, and despite Garibaldi's assurance about the shower, she had to check for herself. She then started to unpack her few belongings, taking extra care to hang her dress uniform up properly, her fingers lingering on the decorations, idly wondering how many more Sinclair had than her.

After a while, Ivanova decided it was time to explore, and she knew exactly where she wanted to go. She wandered through the corridors, but not aimlessly this time, having already memorised parts of the station from a map while unpacking, and finally she arrived at the hydroponics garden. Trying not to be too obvious, Ivanova spent some time searching for the illegal coffee plantar Takashima had gifted to her. And when finally she spotted it, well hidden and unobtrusive, she allowed herself a full smile. Perhaps taking the position on Babylon 5 would be the best move she had made yet.

TBC


	3. 101 Midnight on the Firing Line

_January 2258_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

There was a situation. There was always a situation on Babylon 5, it seemed. Lieutenant Commander Ivanova had discovered that already. Whether it was minor or major, there was always _something_ going on, and most of the 'goings on' had to do with Ambassadors G'Kar and Mollari for some as-of-yet unfathomable reason. This situation, however, was one of the more major ones, and protocol demanded she inform Commander Sinclair. Which would be fine, if she could actually find the man. It seemed impossible to her that the commanding officer of the station could vanish so easily, but Sinclair had managed it. He wasn't answering his link – she wasn't even sure if it was on or not – yet no one seemed to be worried about him. Which worried Ivanova.

She finally managed to corner Garibaldi, who was remarkably unconcerned about Sinclair's absence. In fact, it seemed perfectly normal to him, and while Ivanova respected his judgement, she had already found out that they had differing views of 'normal'. Garibaldi was still something of an enigma to Ivanova; his friendly manner clashed often which his professional self, and she had trouble taking him seriously when she should, and taking him seriously when she shouldn't.

After discovering where Sinclair was, and understanding his need for privacy, Ivanova was loath to disturb him, but unfortunately, the news she had would not wait. As she walked to the observation dome, her thoughts turned to her commanding officer. It was true what Garibaldi had said, she was new to the station, but she had already figured out a few very important pointers about how the place ran, and most of the those notions pertained to Sinclair.

He was unlike any other officer she had ever served under. On the surface, he seemed mild-mannered, even soft, and far too jovial, and while some people may have been forgiven for thinking that, Ivanova wasn't fooled. She could see his strength, his passion, his determination – could see it all in his eyes. Those eyes that spoke great volumes without him uttering a word; they were warm and compassionate, but flashed like liquid copper in times of anger. She knew Sinclair was someone to trust, to learn from, and that surprised her. Her other commanding officers had been good, no doubt of that, and she had learnt a lot from them, but this man was different; she felt a connection to him like nothing she had ever experienced before, and it was something of a shock to her cynical Russian outlook.

Of course, the biggest surprise came when Ivanova walked in on Sinclair as he was putting his uniform back on after coming back from a mission. Dear Gods, that man loved to fly! Ivanova had a passion for it, but for Sinclair it seemed as essential as _breathing._ She could not imagine what it was like for him being stuck on a station 24/7. She only had been on Babylon 5 for two days and had been passing the locker room for the StarFury pilots when she saw Sinclair in there, and decided to give him an update on what had happened while he had been off station. Ivanova had never been one for 'the personal touch' – usually a report would have sufficed – but she felt in this posting it would go a long way.

He had his back to her when she entered the room and she had the good grace to stare. The uniform hid a lot of secrets, and his body seemed to be the best kept one. His back was muscular but not overly so, the skin rippling slightly as he pulled his shirt on over wide shoulders, and started to button it to cover a narrowing waist. Then he turned, seemingly aware he was being watched, and when he saw who it was, he smiled.

“Something, Lieutenant Commander?”

Ivanova had nodded and launched into a very professional update on things, but her mind had been completely focussed on Sinclair. His chest was muscled enough for her liking, and there was just enough hair covering it, concentrating into a line that disappeared in the waistband of his trousers. Whether Sinclair noticed her scrutiny or not, she didn't know; she just delivered her report, nodded curtly and left, only stopping when she reached her quarters. She was developing a crush on her CO already; it just was _not_ possible.

But now, as Ivanova entered the observation dome, she realised it was possible. When Sinclair turned to look at her, his expression had been unguarded for the briefest of seconds, but it was enough time for her to see the pain he had suffered in his life, and she was sure she caught a glimpse of something else entirely, something pertaining to her. But it was foolish to over think things; apart from the chain-of-command to consider, the more immediate concern was the attack on Ragesh III.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Londo was already waiting in Sinclair's office when he and Ivanova walked in, so there was no chance for him to brief his XO on what the Centauri ambassador's reaction was likely to be. Not that she needed it; Ivanova was a fast learner, Sinclair had noted with approval. She seemed to watch him closely to see how he reacted in certain situations, and in some ways she was already trying to emulate him. It was inspiring, and in many ways completely different to his previous XO, Takashima. It had struck him a couple of weeks ago that it must be as difficult for Ivanova to get used to a new CO as it was for him to get used to her, and Babylon 5 certainly wasn't like any other outpost. He almost smiled; of course Babylon 5 was unique because it was _his_. He was certain every other commanding officer felt the same way.

While Londo griped about the situation, Sinclair moved to stand next to Ivanova, his proximity almost alarming as he seemed to blatantly disregard the rules of 'personal space'. His elbow and shoulder was almost flush with hers, and she began to try and fathom the reason, even when asking Londo a question. Was it by accident? Was it deliberate? Or was he just one of those people who enjoyed physical contact?

Delenn and G'Kar's appearance forced Ivanova to focus her attention on what was happening, and she silently berated herself for being distracted, but luckily Sinclair didn't seem to have noticed. For some reason, his approval over her conduct meant more to her than it had done with any of her other commanding officers. And so when the ambassadors left, Ivanova lingered in the doorway.

“Anything else, Commander?”

Sinclair smiled and shook his head. “No. You just concentrate on running the station, I'll deal with this. I'll let you know if anything comes up.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

When Sinclair looked up from his paperwork to see Ivanova had returned to his office, his smile was a genuine one. Although she was new to the station and an officer he would not have chosen, he had to admit that she fitted in well, perhaps even better than his old second-in-command. She was firm and controlled, every inch the soldier, but Sinclair saw in her the potential for more; for diplomacy, for command, but also for friendship. She had the driest sense of humour he had ever encountered, and he was certain that in time, when she had relaxed in their company a little more, she might even be able to put Garibaldi in his place, and _that_ would be something worth seeing. And while Sinclair tried not to let himself be attracted to simple surface looks, he had to admit that Ivanova was beautiful. He never usually allowed himself to indulge in 'what if' but he couldn't help but notice things about her; the way she walked, the curve of her neck...and her hair.... He had a major weakness for long hair.

Fading the sound on the comm channel, Sinclair focussed all of his attention on Ivanova and invited her to sit down while they discussed the current situation, and then they went onto the Minbari War, which seemed inevitable when any Earthforce officers spoke to each other, despite it being ten years since the war ended. There was a flash of pain in his eyes and expression when she asked about his father, and when he spoke again, his voice was hoarse with emotion. It was obvious the subject was painful to him in some way, and Ivanova could relate well, her relationship with her own father being what it was. In that instant, she became even more aware there was a lot more to Sinclair than most people realised, and she felt a kinship with him she couldn't quite explain. But as quickly as he had given her a glimpse of another side of him, the shutters came down and he moved the conversation along.

Then he said, “Focus on what you see,” his eyes locking with hers, and time stopped. Ivanova had heard about people experiencing intense connections with others, pure emotion born of want, need and a sense of completion upon meeting another part of their soul, but she had never thought it truly possible, especially not for her. Yet looking into Sinclair's eyes, unreadable and dark, Ivanova knew things were not so simple. She knew that in front of her was more than just a commanding officer, perhaps even a friend in time; here was a man to walk through hell with, to face the ultimate darkness with. She had thought that what she felt upon first seeing him was just a fluke, a gut reaction to seeing an attractive man, but now it seemed there was more to it. She didn't have such a good relationship with destiny, fate or God, but it seemed one of them had a sense of humour, and Ivanova's wasn't sure she liked it very much. But she did knew if she wasn't careful, she could be in serious trouble, so she did the only thing she could: she changed the subject.

Her comment about jaws had been made innocently, in the spirit of the conversation, and it was only afterwards, out in the corridor, that she realised how it could have sounded, should Sinclair choose to take it that way. But instead of worrying, Ivanova just shrugged and carried on. A sincere compliment never hurt to give, and the chances of Sinclair taking it to mean something more were extremely remote.

For his part, Sinclair heaved a sigh of relief when Ivanova left. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy talking to her; he feared he enjoyed it too much. And when he had focussed on her.... It was unintentional, and he certainly hadn't been prepared for the sparks that followed. He had been aware of the connection he felt with her during their first meeting, but had try to shrug it off as something less important than it was, and even now he tried to convince himself it was nothing, just in his imagination, the result of being on his own for too long, and he started to wonder when he might see Catherine again. According to their history, they were due for a 'liaison' any time. Sinclair tried to smile at that thought, but it didn't last. He knew in the deepest parts of his soul that he was deluding himself. Something was going on, something he wasn't in control of, and he wasn't sure he liked it very much. Then Ivanova's comment about leaders having strong jaws floated back to him, and he smiled again. It was just a comment, but he chose to take it as a compliment directed at him as well. His smile disappeared altogether, only to be replaced by a grin. It was possible he was heading for trouble, but in that moment, he didn't care.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

When Ivanova went to Sinclair's office to inform him Garibaldi was ready to take a squadron of StarFurys and intercept the raiders, she found him pacing agitatedly in his office, a state she hadn't seen him in before, and it worried her slightly. He saw her and motioned for her to remain in the doorway; obviously out of sight of the senator who was causing Sinclair so much grief. Ivanova took the hint and remained silent, just watched and listened and formed her own opinion on what was going on. She would, of course, follow any order Sinclair gave her without argument, but if his decision matched her own thoughts on the matter, it would mean.... She shook her head slightly. It would mean nothing. Only that they agreed, which wasn't a conspiracy by fate or any such rubbish.

Then, as she had finished speaking, the realisation of what was happening hit Sinclair suddenly. Ivanova watched his expression change and wondered what conclusion he had reached so quickly, though it was obvious he wasn't about to explain it all to her, and not because he didn't want to, simply because he didn't have time. “Tell Garibaldi to stand down, I'm taking his place.”

“Sir, the meeting....”

Sinclair was already almost out of the door and he half turned at her words, his expression exasperated, but Ivanova knew it wasn't directed at her. She was still startled by how well she had gotten to know him in such a short space of time.

“Look, if I'm at the meeting I'll have to do something I don't want to do, so it can go on without me. You can take my place. Don't worry, it's all in the notes. Just take the vote and see what everyone wants to do.”

She knew what he was asking of her, and wasn't surprised at all. “Yes, sir,” Ivanova replied. “Any other instructions?”

Sinclair smiled wryly. “Plenty, but you never saw me before I left. As far as you know, we're voting for sanctions.”

Ivanova nodded solemnly. “Yes, sir.” His decision matched her own thoughts; they had to help the Centauri against the Narn, no matter the cost. But it didn't mean anything. It was just coincidence.

Sinclair felt a burst of pride as he headed to the hangar. He now had high hopes for his second-in-command and she had just shown enormous trust in him, something he wouldn't forget. She could have played it by the book and acted on Earth's orders, not his, but he knew she wouldn't do that. She trusted him and respected him already as a commanding officer; she would do what he asked, even if she didn't agree, Sinclair thought. She would support his decisions no matter what they were, and he doubted she would ever question him in front of anyone else. A short space of time to know so much about a person, but her character spoke volumes and he liked what he was hearing.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

She wasn't worried, wasn't almost completely terrified. Not her. Not Ivanova. After all, it was only a meeting. With the council. With all the main ambassadors and the League of Non-Aligned Worlds. It wasn't like one wrong move could spell intergalactic disaster. Not at all. Ivanova shook her head. She was worrying too much. If Sinclair didn't trust her ability to cope, he wouldn't have left her in charge. Besides, Garibaldi was around to make sure things didn't get completely out of hand, and suddenly Ivanova found his presence on the station reassuring. Also reassuring was Delenn on her right; although they hadn't had chance to talk properly, she found the Minbari ambassador's proximity calming.

Then G'Kar walked in like he owned the place and completely overrode her comments, objections, and orders. He made it all sound so mild and innocent, but there was an air of smugness about him that grated on Ivanova's nerves. She bristled with indignant anger that he had ignored her position of authority, simply because she was new; Ivanova was certain the Narn wouldn't have treated Sinclair like that, especially after what had happened in the Zen garden. One of the things she had discovered extremely quickly after setting foot on the station was how quickly news and rumours spread. Wild fire was slow compared to it, and while it was annoying at times, on other occasions it was extremely useful. Like finding out that Sinclair had gone toe-to-toe with G'Kar, who had threatened to have him skinned alive. Ivanova decided she really should have a talk with the Commander about putting himself in unnecessary danger, and aggravating a Narn, especially one with G'Kar's reputation, definitely qualified as a bad idea.

When everyone in the council room saw the live broadcast from Ragesh III, Ivanova knew the situation was hopeless. G'Kar had planned it all from the beginning, and even though she knew she couldn't have stopped what happened, all she could think about was how disappointed Sinclair would be with her failure to handle things properly.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

When Sinclair contacted Ivanova on his way back to inform her of the success of the mission, he also asked that she have G'Kar meet him in his office, along with Garibaldi. Sinclair's instructions were very clear; the Narn ambassador _would_ be present, even if she had to drag him there. Ivanova replied that it would be her pleasure. And it was. G'Kar blustered and tried to claim business elsewhere but she wasn't having any of it. In a voice of steel, she informed him that he would either meet her in Sinclair's office, or they could conduct their business while he was in the brig. She gave him three seconds to decide.

Sinclair was pleased with the way Ivanova handled herself with G'Kar when he brought the Narn from the control ship into his office. He had heard from Garibaldi how the council meeting went and guessed his second-in-command would be feeling at least a little chagrined. But he had no doubt whatsoever that the Narn ambassador would respect her now, once he got over his own humiliation at having his government's plan fall apart so easily.

While Garibaldi took the Narn to the brig, Sinclair headed back down to the locker room to change out of his flight gear. He could have done it when he docked, but he wanted to resolve the situation quickly, especially with the voting going on back on Earth. He was just finished buttoning his shirt when someone coughed to get his attention.

“I wanted to talk to you privately, sir, if I may,” Ivanova asked, all stiff formality.

Even though Sinclair could guess what this was about, he gave her his full attention and allowed her to get the problem off her chest. “Is everything alright, Lieutenant Commander?”

“No, sir.” She took a deep breath. “The council meeting. It didn't go at all to plan. In fact, it was a disaster. I wanted to apologise for how I handled it. It won't happen again, sir.”

Sinclair studied her face briefly then smiled. “G'Kar would have done the same thing if I had been there.”

“I don't think so. Which reminds me....” Ivanova took a deep breath and a leap of faith. “What were you thinking, Commander, threatening a Narn like that? Especially G'Kar.”

“What...?”

“In the Zen garden. You two had a nice little 'chat.” Ivanova shook her head. “With all due respect, it was stupid. Sir. At least give me a few more weeks of being stationed here before you decide to try and get yourself killed. At least then I should be better equipped to handle running Babylon 5 in your...absence.”

Sinclair stared at her for a few moments and wondered if all commanding officers had to put up with this from their XOs. He supposed they did. Looking after the CO was one of the primary jobs of the second-in-command, and Ivanova had conducted her grievance in a respectful manner.

“I'll keep that in mind, Lieutenant Commander,” he replied, his tone one of apology. “As for the council meeting, like I said, it would have happened that way even if I was there. I thought you handled the situation in a capable manner, and I'm impressed that you didn't threaten G'Kar yourself. You stayed calm under pressure; I know I wouldn't have done.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. If there's nothing else...?”

“Dismissed.”

Ivanova allowed herself a brief smile at Sinclair's compliment, a warm glow spreading through her...which abruptly stopped when she realised what he had done. The shift in the focus of the conversation from him to her was so smooth, she hadn't even registered what was happening.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair was just in the middle of getting ready for bed when Ivanova's voice sounded in his quarters.

_“Commander, we have a problem.”_

He groaned. He didn't want problems, he wanted sleep.

_“Commander?”_

Then again, he decided there were worse things than hearing Ivanova's voice just before he went to sleep.

TBC


	4. 102 Soul Hunter

_February 2258_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Have you served with Doctor Franklin before?” Ivanova asked as they made their way to the meeting area.

“Briefly, a few years ago. He's a good man, a little over-enthusiastic at times, perhaps,” Sinclair replied mildly.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“I don't know. Perhaps.”

The area was bustling with people as always, and they stood closely side by side in order to avoid being jostled. Sinclair thrust his hands in his pockets and rocked forwards and backwards slightly on his feet.

“So, Lieutenant Commander, how are you settling in?”

“Fine, sir,” Ivanova replied.

He stopped rocking and turned to look at her, his eyebrows raised. “Really?”

A tight smile graced her face. “Has Mr Garibaldi been gossiping again?”

“Mr Garibaldi only deals with the facts,” Sinclair said, and it was Ivanova's turn to raise her eyebrows at him. “Most of the time.”

“And what precisely has Mr Garibaldi told you?”

Sinclair's expression turned serious. “That you were having some...difficulty with Talia Winters.”

Ivanova's face hardened. “I have never treated Ms Winters with anything but professional courtesy....”

He held his hand up to stop her tirade. “No one said that you did, Lieutenant Commander. Not me and certainly not Mr Garibaldi. He thought perhaps it was just a clash of personalities. It happens. You can't like everyone all the time. Take Londo and G'Kar, for instance.”

“Bad example, Commander.”

“But you understand my point.”

Ivanova sighed. “Yes, sir.” She clasped her hands behind her back, realising that some admission was needed from her. “I have nothing against Ms Winters personally, it's the Psi Corps I don't like.”

Sinclair's face clouded and it was obvious he shared her sentiment. “Mr Garibaldi feels the same way, and I suspect a great many other people do.” He put his hands on his hips then, and started scanning the faces of the people who were disembarking from the latest transport to arrive.

“And your thoughts on the matter, sir?” Ivanova couldn't help but ask.

She never received an answer.

“Dr Franklin!”

She forced her attention to the fresh faced man walking towards them. His grin was broad, his eyes alight with enthusiasm, and despite the slight reservation Sinclair obviously had about him, Ivanova knew she would be able to get on well with this man, though her Russian outlook made her act cool towards him.

“Commander Sinclair!” Franklin's voice was just as enthusiastic as his expression; Ivanova made a mental note to ask him if that enthusiasm was still intact after a couple of weeks on the station.

They shook hands and Sinclair introduced them. Franklin mentioned seeing a Dr Kyle at the transfer point, and Ivanova recalled he was the one who was ordered back to Earth. She happened to glance at Sinclair's face when Franklin mentioned Kyle and saw his expression tighten. There was still a smile on his face but it was slightly forced now, and she wondered how he felt about having his chief medical officer, his second-in-command, and the resident telepath all taken off the station and reassigned in such a short space of time. It was obviously difficult for him to accept and she wondered if he had been given any reasoning behind the transfers or not.

Then Sinclair's link went off. “I have to go,” he said apologetically to Franklin before turning to Ivanova. “If you'll see the good doctor the rest of the way, I'd appreciate it.”

She inclined her head. “Yes, sir.”

As he walked behind her, Sinclair touched her elbow, a gesture of acknowledgement and thanks, but she was certain his hand lingered a fraction longer than it should of done, and her eyes automatically followed his back as he walked down the corridor. He was quite possibly one of the nicest people she had ever met, and really, she couldn't help but be attracted to him, which was fine, as long as it stayed a silent attraction, something that perhaps would dwindle in time, and which certainly wouldn't get any stronger. Sometimes it felt doable, sometimes a completely futile hope.

With a snap, Ivanova came back to herself and reality, and realised that Franklin was still waiting for her to show him where med lab and his quarters were. Cursing herself once again for her lack of attention to the situation, and equally thankful that the doctor was too preoccupied with what was happening around him to notice her distraction, she spoke up.

“If you'll follow me.”

He turned to look at her, his eyes almost comically wide. “Is it always this busy?” He seemed surprised.

Ivanova just nodded. “Yes. We like it that way.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair's mood was pensive as he made his way to C&C and it was only partly due to the ship which had come through the jumpgate. He was preoccupied with Ivanova, which seemed to be a regular occurrence for him; she was a distraction he both welcomed and didn't need at the same time. He wasn't against breaking the rules, but only in the line of duty, for the greater good, not for any personal gain, and he certainly wasn't about to put someone else's career at risk, especially not someone he cared about.

That thought brought Sinclair up sharp, causing several people to swerve violently in the corridor to avoid colliding with him. Ivanova hadn't been on the station long enough for him to care about her, really, unless it was in a professional capacity. After a moment's thought, he nodded to himself. That was it; it didn't matter that he was fooling himself, or even that he was aware of that fact. 

But the minute he stepped on the command deck, Sinclair was the commander again, in charge and in control, all cool professionalism and curiosity. “Alright, what have we got?”

It seemed what they had was an unidentified ship, with a configuration Sinclair had never seen before, and unfortunately it was hurtling towards the station, completely out of control. His choices were clear and limited; blow the ship up now or try to capture it. For him, there was never really a choice. Raising the his hand, he tapped his link.

“Sinclair to Ivanova.”

_“Ivanova here.”_

“I need you in C&C. We have a situation.”

_“I'll be right there, Commander.”_

Franklin broke off his inspection of med lab to look at Ivanova with a raised eyebrow. “Problem?”

“Give it a few hours, Doctor, and you'll realise there is _always_ a problem on the station,” she replied, smiling slightly at him. “If you'll excuse me....”

Franklin nodded, trying not to be too surprised or amused by her attitude. “I'm sure I can manage, Lieutenant Commander. Thank you.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

By the time Ivanova had reached the command deck, however, Sinclair had already left. “Where is the Commander?” she asked one of the technicians.

“In Delta flight bay, Lieutenant Commander.”

Ivanova resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Any excuse that man could find to fly, he did. “Ivanova to Sinclair.”

_“Sinclair.”_

“What's the situation, Commander?”

 _“Unknown ship came through the jumpgate, heading on a direct collision course with the station,”_ he replied.

Ivanova frowned. “Sir, wouldn't it be easier to blow it up from here rather than taking a StarFury out?”

_“First contact protocol, Lieutenant Commander. Only destroy something if it presents a clear and immediate danger. If that ship is a new race or some new technology, I want it.”_

She almost laughed; he sounded like an excited child at Christmas, and she was tempted to make some comment. Perhaps when she knew him better. She did have to say something, though; it was too tempting not to. “This is not a clear and present danger? I must read the rule book again.” Just before the comm link was cut, she could have sworn she heard him laughing. Turning to a technician, Ivanova commanded, “Activate defence grid and lock onto that ship, but do _not_ fire until I give the word. Understood?”

“Yes, Lieutenant Commander.”

It was tense standing on the command deck attempting to be calm while watching Sinclair outside trying to grab the ship with the grapple. He came close a few times but didn't quite manage it, and all the while a technician was intoning the time until impact with the station. Silently, Ivanova was urging the Commander on, willing him to get hold of the damned ship, yet it spun closer and closer.

 _“If I don't get it on the next pass, you'll have to blow it up,”_ Sinclair said over the comm channel, his voice full of chagrin.

There was less than ten seconds left, and he waited until now to make that decision? Ivanova wondered if he really was crazy, despite what Takashima had said to her about Sinclair. True, he would never put the station in danger, but he was so close to that ship that if it exploded, the chances were his StarFury would as well....

 _“Got it!”_ His voice sounded triumphant, almost as if he knew all along that was going to be the outcome. _“Heading to flight bay. Tell Doctor Franklin he may have his first patient.”_

Ivanova breathed a sigh of relief. “I will pass the message on, Commander. Oh, and one other thing. Next time you decide to indulge in your crazy side, sir, please give me some warning. Babylon 5 out.” She closed the comm channel without even waiting to hear the indignant or surprised reply from her superior.

The rest of the crew stared at her in surprised until she turned around and suddenly they were all busy again. Ivanova shook her head. She was certain Sinclair was going to put her in an early grave with his behaviour, and she started to wonder exactly what made him act so nuts.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair was trying not to be too amused over Ivanova's admonishment of him as he finished buttoning up his jacket while walking towards the med lab. He wasn't surprised in the slightest, not after she had scolded him for going up against G'Kar. Maybe his actions did seem crazy to her, maybe they _were_ crazy, he wasn't sure. But he actually appreciated being pulled up about it, even with other members of the crew listening. Ivanova had said it in such a mild-mannered way that it could have easily come from Garibaldi, who regularly said things like that to Sinclair because they were friends, and that revelation made him feel much better about his feelings for his XO.

Then he met Delenn and they two of them headed to med lab together. As they walked, Sinclair found himself contemplating his relationship with the Minbari ambassador. He felt a certain kinship towards her, one he couldn't explain, and one he certainly never thought he would feel after the war. From the first time they were introduced, Sinclair had felt a pull towards Delenn much like he had felt towards Ivanova, and he wondered if he could classify his feelings for both women in the same way. He respected Delenn a great deal, her judgement, wisdom and character, and he admired her like almost no other. In time, he was certain he could come to view Ivanova in such a way as well. But his feelings for his second-in-command had been much stronger, more powerful, almost overwhelming. Was it simple lust talking? Although it didn't seem like it sometimes, Sinclair was as human as the next person, as prone to such feelings as anyone else. The only difference was he was better at controlling them, or so he thought.

But as always, trying to sort his thoughts out about Ivanova would have to wait. As always, there was a situation.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Despite her Russian upbringing and her own sense of discipline, Ivanova didn't even thinking twice before undoing her jacket while sat in the mess hall with Sinclair and Garibaldi. The Commander sat similarly dressed, while the security chief had shucked his jacket altogether, and the ease and familiarity of the action seemed unusual to her, yet around them it was almost natural. It wasn't disrespectful in any way, and Ivanova found she quite liked it. They were sat discussing the Soul Hunter down in med lab and the effect his mere presence on the station was having on the other aliens.

“We've had a dozen ships ask to leave already,” Ivanova informed Sinclair after Garibaldi had left. “And some of them weren't scheduled to leave for weeks.”

Sinclair sighed. “I think word has gotten out about our friend down in the iso-lab.”

“I'm surprised it took so long, actually,” Ivanova remarked dryly, then she glanced around to see who was listening. “Commander, about earlier...when you were capturing the ship. I was rude and less than professional and I would like to apologise.”

Sinclair raised his eyebrows. “Really? I didn't notice.” Then he smiled. “I wouldn't expect my second-in-command to hold their tongue on any matter.”

“I appreciate that, sir, but in front of the others....”

“From anyone else, yes, I would have been annoyed,” he conceded. “But with you...let's just say I'd almost be disappointed if you _didn't_ say anything. You may not have been on the station long, but you already have a reputation.”

Ivanova just nodded firmly. “Good. In that case, Commander, when you get time, may I see your copy of the rulebook? As it's quite obviously different to mine and probably everyone else's.”

“I'd look at Mr Garibaldi's copy of the rulebook before making that assumption, Lieutenant Commander,” Sinclair replied, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

Ivanova shuddered.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

They were on the command deck, Sinclair, Ivanova and Garibaldi, trying to work out exactly where the Soul Hunter would head to. True, there were only so many places to hide on the station, but that didn't mean that finding him would be an easy task. Ivanova noted that Garibaldi looked more alert than normal, obviously thriving on the adrenaline of the situation, despite its potential danger. They knew so little about the Soul Hunters, and the potential catastrophic danger they were facing was all too real. Did a Soul Hunter wait for someone to die and then take their soul? Could they influence death, and if that was the case, would they stop at just one person or could they depopulate the entire station? Glancing at Sinclair, Ivanova could tell the same thoughts were running through his mind as well. The strain on his face was very clear and she found herself wishing there was a way she could shoulder more of the responsibility, take more of the burden from him. Then his expression shifted slightly, and she had her first premonition he was about to do something stupid. It wasn't a flash of the future, more a feeling that if the chance arose, he would step up to the bar to play hero again. One day, Ivanova decided, they were going to have a nice long chat about that.

Sinclair was used to Garibaldi, used to how he handled situations like this, so he barely registered how the security chief looked or what he was seeing; he was more interested in Ivanova, out of professional curiosity more than anything else. She was handling herself well, as he had come to expect, but he could see worry lines beginning to etch themselves into her beautiful face and he wished it wasn't so. But it was a part of the job, and he was certain Ivanova wouldn't have it any other way.

Garibaldi may have been focussed on the problem but that didn't mean he was blind to everything else. He saw how Ivanova stared at Sinclair, saw how his old friend studied her right back. It could just have been two officers getting to know each other, building a good rapport and trust so that in any given moment, orders could be issued and passed on without hesitation or dispute. But he was certain there was more to it than that. Couldn't be completely sure, though, so he didn't say anything. Despite being Earthforce, Garibaldi was a lot more lenient in his understanding and interpretation of the regs, and so he personally wouldn't have objected to a relationship between the Commander and his XO. He was pretty certain neither of them would ever allow any personal feelings to get in the way of their duty, but it wasn't just him, and his own sense of duty would compel him to say something to somebody. Sinclair first, as they had been friends a long time, and Ivanova second, because it was only fair. Then he shook his head. What was he doing, wasting time with idle speculation? It was thoughts like that which started rumours. Silently, Garibaldi berated himself. As head of security, he should have known better.

“Then all we have to do,” Ivanova was saying as Garibaldi tuned back in, “Is figure out who's about to die.”

He tried not to smile at her deadpan expression and dry comment, and instead glanced at Sinclair, who smiled despite his fatigue and rolled his eyes. Not many people could make him smile like that, Garibaldi noted, and he decided then that however their relationship progressed in the future, having Ivanova around was definitely not a bad idea.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair glared at the ship heading towards the station; another Soul Hunter. “Did someone book a convention and not bother to tell me?” he groused.

Ivanova almost laughed but didn't. It really wasn't the time or the place for hilarity, but something about the Commander's tone made a little bubble of amusement rise up. Perhaps he was getting his own back on her for her earlier comment. Then he turned to look at her, his mouth open to issue an order, but no sound came out. Once again, their eyes locked and that undeniable feeling of being connected hit them both like an exploding star. It was not the time to be distracted, yet neither of them seemed to be able to help it, despite their professionalism and strict attachment to duty. And it was Sinclair who broke eye contact first, telling Ivanova to patch him through to the second Soul Hunter.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

_“Sinclair to C &C.”_

Ivanova wondered if she would ever not feel a self of relief upon hearing his voice after he had gone off to do something which was required of him. She knew it was stupid to worry, but worry she did. It also felt distinctly out of character, yet perfectly normal. Duty. Honour. Work. Those were the things she should be focussing on instead.

“C&C online,” she replied after pressing a button.

 _“Ambassador Delenn has been kidnapped,”_ Sinclair told her without preamble.

Ivanova felt a strange lurch somewhere between her stomach and her heart. “The Soul Hunter?”

_“It appears so. Apparently he's unstable. His own brotherhood have been chasing him for a while now trying to catch him with no success.”_

“Is there anyway the second Soul Hunter can find the first one?” Ivanova asked, worry of a different kind colouring her tone. She had spoken with Delenn very rarely, yet there was something about the petite Minbari ambassador which seemed to calm Ivanova's troubled soul, and once again she found herself caring for someone she barely knew.

Sinclair heard the concern in his XO's voice and silently approved. Delenn, it seemed, was important to them both, and even Garibaldi looked ready to tear to plates off the bulk head to find her. _“I hope so,”_ he replied to Ivanova's question. “I'll keep you informed.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

When Sinclair linked in telling Ivanova that Delenn was safe, she breathed a double sigh of relief, and then counted to ten to get her anger in check. Once again he had rushed off to play hero, once again he had put himself in harms way unnecessarily, and once again she felt the need to confront him about it.

Which she did during one of their meetings, no long after things had returned to 'normal' on the station. Normal. Since arriving on Babylon 5, Ivanova had quickly had to re-evaluate her understanding of that word; things which would have seemed extremely strange or worrying before were accepted as being commonplace and almost expected there.

Sinclair had been watching Ivanova as usual as he spoke about various matters, some important, some not very, and he noticed her attention steadily wandering. He could guess what was on her mind, and after a while decided to give her the opening she needed to vent.

“Something, Lieutenant Commander?” he asked.

Ivanova focussed on him in an instant, aware she had been caught drifting but not about to admit it in any way, shape or form. “Yes, sir.” She took a deep breath, and Sinclair steeled himself for what was about to come next. “Permission to speak freely?”

He looked at her in surprise. “Of course.”

“You should have waited for backup, sir. You should have taken one of the other officers with you. You should _not_ have gone off on your own like that. Sir. There was absolutely no need for it, nothing that would have warranted you searching alone. Furthermore, Mr Garibaldi should have known better than to let you. He didn't even _try_ to stop you or suggest an alternative. This kind of behaviour from him, I would have expected. But you, Commander?” Ivanova pinned him with a piercing glare. “You have responsibilities. Playing hero is not one of them.”

The change in his expression was swift and for the first time in a long time, she found she was afraid. This man in front of her had changed instantly from a mild-mannered guy to someone reckless and with a temper on him that could level small planets. She wanted to stammer an apology and then run and hide, but she couldn't. Couldn't move, couldn't look away, couldn't change what she had said, and in a second, Ivanova's whole career flashed before her eyes. It was over.

“Forgive me, Commander, that was completely out of line,” she said, forcing her voice to work. “I know you would never endanger the station or its occupants, I know the safety of the people on board is your first and main concern. I just....” What could she say? She cared for him? She was still getting to know him? What words would make the situation better? “I've never had a commanding officer who would throw themselves into the thick of things so much, sir. It takes some getting used to.”

Sinclair had been ready to put Ivanova in her place, his feelings for her not withstanding, but her apology had been heartfelt and possibly difficult for to her say. And unfortunately, she did have a point. “Apology accepted,” he replied, relaxing and smiling at her. “I understand it must be difficult for you. God knows I have Mr Garibaldi tearing his hair out sometimes over things that I do.”

“That explains a lot,” Ivanova remarked dryly.

Sinclair gave her a look. “Sometimes I need reminding of my position.”

“Does Mr Garibaldi do that, Commander?”

“Sometimes.”

“And when he forgets?”

Sinclair smiled once more. “Now I have you.”

TBC


	5. 103 Infection

_March 2258_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Commander, we're getting reports of a damaged transport in sector 12,” Ivanova said from her position at the front of the observation deck. She didn't turn to look over her shoulder at Sinclair, felt there was no real need; she knew he would be at her side within minutes and sure enough, he had left his station and was by her side before she had finished processing all the information from the computer. He brushed her elbow briefly as he came to a stop and Ivanova noted he seemed to do that quite often; whenever he had to stand near her, it was almost always at her right shoulder, placing her on his left. She wondered if there was some significance in that; maybe one day, when they had the time, she could ask him about it.

“Raiders?” Sinclair asked, his deep voice seeming to reverberate around the space they occupied more than normal.

“Unknown, but the transmission didn't mention them.” She glanced at him, wondering just how to phrase her next words. “Suggest we send someone out there to check it out, sir.”

“I agree,” Sinclair said, nodding as he turned and started to walk away. “Tell Deltas 3 and 6 to meet me in the flight bay, get the rest of Delta flight to stand by. If we need back up, I'll let you know.” And he was gone.

Ivanova just stared at the space he had occupied seconds before. “Yes, Commander. Of course, Commander,” she muttered under her breath. “Or how about I go? You know, just for a change. After all, I am also a qualified pilot, with over one hundred hours flying experience. Yes, really.” She shook her head and turned back to her station to issue the orders she had received. And when she saw Sinclair's StarFury leave the station, she resisted the brief temptation of shooting it down.

The door to the command deck hissed open and seconds later, Garibaldi's voice sounded. “Lieutenant Commander, do you know where the Commander is?”

Ivanova pointed outside. “I hope it wasn't important, Mr Garibaldi.”

He came to stand beside her, but unlike Sinclair, he kept a little distance. “Where is he going?” There was a definite note of exasperation in his voice which she approved of.

“Gone to check out a damaged transport.”

“And he's the only person on this station who can fly, right?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

Garibaldi tried not to grin at Ivanova's sarcasm, which mirrored his own, but it was difficult. “Great. That means I'll have to keep that reporter occupied until he gets back.” He shrugged. “At least he'll owe me.”

Ivanova smiled briefly. “I wouldn't count on it.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair agreed whole-heartedly with Garibaldi's statement about calling it a night, though he still felt relaxed enough to suggest going for a drink with him and Ivanova, in the silent hope that Garibaldi might have other plans, leaving the Commander and his XO to chat alone. As Ivanova approached him, his smiled down at her, though it was a weary expression. Sometimes he felt constantly tired, though of what, he wasn't sure. Maybe what he really needed was a relaxing evening alone; after all, the station was quiet, had been for some time, and he knew he should make the most of it while it lasted.

“Shouldn't the night shift be on duty by now, Lieutenant Commander?” Sinclair asked her after glancing at the clock.

Ivanova's expression was sombre as she replied. She had hoped of spending some time after her shift with Sinclair, and maybe Garibaldi as well, just getting to know them better, but   
there had also been some unusual energy readings in the last hour or so, which she felt needed monitoring by a senior officer. After she had explained that to Sinclair, his expression shifted to one of professional concern and curiosity.

“Is it serious?”

Ivanova shrugged slightly and held his gaze. “That's what I want to find out, sir.”

He was impressed with her dedication to duty, but resisted complimenting her. It simply wasn't needed at that time, though he felt he had to say _something_ to her. “Keep me posted. And try to get some rest.”

Ivanova's expression never changed as she nodded in acknowledgement to Sinclair, but her heart began to flutter, something it hadn't really done since their first meeting when she first arrived on the station, and she couldn't understand exactly what had set her off. Was it the obvious concern he was showing in front of everyone else? Was it the inexplicable something in his eyes? Forcing herself to break the contact, Ivanova turned away, working on controlling herself before she did something completely idiotic and totally out of character. Then she remembered something which would undoubtedly ruin the mood and she turned back.

“By the way, your interview is scheduled for 0900 tomorrow morning.”

Sinclair rolled his eyes. “Swell.”

Garibaldi stepped in at that moment to tease his old friend and rather than return to her station, Ivanova stood and watched them, privately amused at Sinclair's obvious reluctance over being interviewed while listening to their easy banter,. In a way she envied them, but she also had no doubt that she would soon be able to join in. Then she realised that person now was that very time, especially after Garibaldi's comment about being promoted to Commander.

“Don't worry, Commander, I'd protect you,” she told him straight-faced.

Sinclair looked surprised, while Garibaldi was suspicious as normal. “Oh really?” the security chief replied.

“Of course. In the line of duty, you understand.” Ivanova tugged at her uniform. “And if I failed, I would avenge you by killing Mr Garibaldi, making it look like an accident, and then I would be promoted to Commander instead. I don't see a problem with _that_.”

Sinclair raised his eyebrows and tried not to smile. Garibaldi looked at her, then looked at the Commander and pulled a face. “Ouch.”

“I think it's time for us to go, Garibaldi.”

“No arguments from me, Commander.”

“Thank you for stopping by,” Ivanova said as they were leaving. Only when the door swung shut and she had turned to look out into space did she allow herself a smile.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair was making his way down the corridors of the station alone when his link beeped. “Sinclair.”

_“I was just checking on Dr Franklin,”_ Ivanova's voice came back to him. _“How is he?”_

“Bruised, a little shaken, but it's nothing serious,” the Commander replied, once again impressed by her concern for her fellow officers. It wasn't forced, as he had encountered before, but a distinct part of her personality; as much as she wanted people to believe she was cold, hard and possibly unfeeling, he knew nothing was further from the truth.

_“Good. How long until he's back on his feet?”_

“Knowing the good doctor, about five minutes ago.” Sinclair smiled to himself.

_“I can believe that, sir,”_ Ivanova said. _“We registered another energy spike last night, about the time Dr Franklin was attacked. Coincidence?”_

“I don't think so.” Sinclair paused, staring straight ahead as he thought. “Meet me in the briefing room, let's see exactly what we're up against.”

_“Yes, sir.”_

His link beeped, severing the communication, but Sinclair didn't move. In the short time she had been on the station, he could see Ivanova's potential clearly; she was loyal, duty-bound, but he suspected not afraid of breaking the rules if it was for the greater good. She was concerned about those around her, their safety being paramount to her own, she was intelligent, though perhaps slightly lacking in diplomacy, but that was of no matter. In short, she was excellent leadership material, and Sinclair had a sudden premonition regarding Ivanova's future. It was like a kaleidoscope of images flashing as clearly as daylight through his mind; first she was a commander, and it looked like the not-too-distant future, then a captain with her own ship not long after that, culminating in her holding the rank of general, one of the most decorated he had ever seen. The vision was so strong, he had to lean against the bulkhead. Rarely had such a thing happened to him before; flashes of the future were all he ever received, as though he had already lived through it and his subconscious was giving him a preview of what to come. And everything he had 'seen' so far had come true. But none had been as strong as that about Ivanova, and he couldn't help but wonder why. Then he drew a deep breath and shook his head. The future wasn't mapped out by anyone; no one could tell what was going to happen because it hadn't happened yet. Sinclair told himself firmly he should concentrate on the here and now, and stop trying to look for connections between himself and his XO at every turn. Once more in control, he straightened and continued walking, but the image of Ivanova's face in the future, hard and weary and emotionless, would not leave him alone.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

When the reporter made her way onto the command deck, Sinclair found he wasn't surprised at all and while normally he would have made her leave himself, he was consumed by the problem of the man/machine which was on the loose around the Babylon 5. When she followed him to his station, however, he knew steps had to be taken.

Except he never got the chance.

Quicker than he had ever seen her move, Ivanova crossed the command deck in two seconds, placing herself firmly between Sinclair and the reporter. Her expression was grim, her face set with a hardness that spoke volumes. “I wouldn't. You're too young to experience so much pain.”

Sinclair almost laughed; he was almost certain the reporter and Ivanova were about the same age, but he had noticed his second-in-command seemed to have an old soul at times. The reporter thought about making an issue of Ivanova's blockade, but then had second thoughts which involved self-preservation and turned on her heel to stalk off the command deck. Ivanova lifted her chin to look forward instead of down, stepped down, and then turned around, her eyes deliberating locking with Sinclair's trying to hid most of his amusement and some of his pride, he nodded briefly to her, watching as she headed back to her station as if nothing had happened. When she promised to protect him earlier, he hadn't actually thought she meant it. Now he could see she was deadly serious, and he started to wonder just how far that protection would go.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Though it was no time to be distracted, though they would never have let it show, both Sinclair and Ivanova were struck with just how well they worked together, and how calm they both were under pressure as they followed Garibaldi tracking the creature. Of course it was their job to be such a way; it was one of the reasons they had achieved the positions and ranks they had. But it seemed more than that, almost like each was helping the other to focus and remain calm.

But then the situation grew worse and Sinclair listened to the reports from his security chief grimly. There had to be something they could do, and he was certain the answer was out there, but if it was, it wasn't forthcoming. His decision wasn't exactly well thought out, more born of his inability to sit by idly during such a crisis. If he had taken the time to consider what he was saying, he might have made a different choice. Then again, maybe not.

“I'm joining Garibaldi on the line.”

Ivanova was too professional to let her surprise show, both at his announcement and at the term her used, sure even the man himself wasn't aware of what he'd said, but it gave her a brief clear insight into his psyche and she wasn't too proud to admit it scared her. There was no protocol for him to leave the command deck; quite the opposite, in fact, considering he was in charge. Ivanova didn't have chance to read his expression, to see whether he really was in control of himself or just acting on some sort of self-destructive instinct. If it was the first, then she had nothing to worry about...much. If it was the second...Ivanova really didn't want to have to relieve him from duty, but if it was for the greater good....

The next thing she knew, he was changing on the command deck, pulling on the black padded garb of the armed security officers, and Ivanova tried not to watch him too obviously. She had seen him in a less dressed state, though not on purpose; this time he even kept his shirt on, which was something of a small disappointment to her. Then without warning Sinclair turned, his eyes almost instinctively locking with hers, and instead of feeling guilty or embarrassed that she had been caught, she lifted her chin defiantly, silently challenging him to prove to her that he _did_ know what he was doing. His eyes grew hard for a moment before his expression softened and with the faintest of smiles, he nodded. Ivanova released the breath she didn't know she had been holding and nodded back to him, turning back to the station to get an update just as Franklin came striding through the door, heading straight for the Commander. Ivanova stayed focussed on what was happening, couldn't hear what the doctor was saying, but she did hear Sinclair's barked order, finding the strain in his voice difficult to hear.

Next thing Ivanova was aware of was Sinclair standing right next to her, his padded garb making him seem so much larger than life, and she found it difficult not to be in awe of him. “Tell Garibaldi I'll be joining him soon,” he said quietly, and she was aware of the technician moving away and Franklin standing off to one side. “Whatever happens, Susan, please do as I ask.”

He used her name and he said please. This was definitely not good. “What are you planning to do?” she asked.

He smiled wryly. “That's just it, I don't know yet. I need you to trust me, though.”

“I do.”

“And keep the station together for me.”

“I will.” Ivanova took a deep breath. “Any other instructions, Commander?”

Sinclair shook his head, his premonition suddenly flaring in his mind's eye, creating a profound feeling of sudden sadness. “No. You know what to do.”

She noted the surge of emotion in him, in more ways than one, and knew her next words were the right ones to speak. “In that case, will you please move? You're in my way.”

The melancholy dispersed like a strong breeze moving a rain cloud and he tried hard not to laugh. It seemed she always had that effect on him. “Right away, Lieutenant Commander.” He looked over his shoulder. “Doctor, walk with me.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

The progress reports coming through from the security team engaging the creature were sketching at best; Ivanova had been listening hard at her console but she could only pick up fragments of conversations, words shouted above the noise of weapons fire, then all went silent as communication was cut. It didn't seem to be going well, that was for sure, and the last energy reading from the creature was completely off the scale again. How long before it ruptured the hull, killing everyone on the station? She shuddered at the implications that one being could cause so much destruction.

Ivanova tried to concentrate but found her attention wandering to Sinclair, and Garibaldi to a much lesser degree, hoping that they weren't putting themselves in unnecessary danger. That thought almost made her laugh out loud; she was certain there was some sort of competition going on between the two of them for who could be the craziest, remembering the incident in the Zocalo just the week before where a thief led Garibaldi on a merry chase. At least it was merry until the security chief caught him. And Sinclair...well, what else was there to say? Finally, when she could stand it no longer, her hand moved to the comm button, only for her station to beep first.

_“Garibaldi to C &C.”_ He sounded worn out and agitated, understandably so.

“C&C online,” Ivanova replied. “Any luck slowing it down?”

_“Negative,”_ Garibaldi shouted over some rending metal. _“It burnt its way downward through the decks. We through everything we had at it, and it didn't even blink!”_ He paused to take a few breaths. _“We think it's heading to the most populated areas to inflict the most damage.”_

Ivanova tried not to let her chagrin and frustration show through. The creature seemed completely unstoppable. “Understood. Is the Commander on his way back or is he staying with you?” A perfectly reasonable question, she thought, though the security chief was extremely hesitant in his reply. “Mr Garibaldi?”

_“Neither, Lieutenant Commander.”_

Ivanova drew a very deep breath. “Then where is he?”

_“He went after the creature,”_ Garibaldi replied after another pregnant pause.

Absolute silence descended on the command deck while Ivanova's mind went blank for approximately two seconds, right before blind rage kicked in. “He did what?” Her voice, however, was deadly calm, like a blast of ice wind, and everyone around her literally shivered.

_“He said something about going for its personality matrix, trying to make it mad so he could lure it away from the civilians.”_ Garibaldi rubbed his face. _“I think he had some sort of plan, and I'm pretty sure it involves blowing out the hull.”_

“Mr Garibaldi, I'm sure you just said the Commander was thinking of blowing out the hull,” Ivanova replied, her voice straining from trying to control the anger.

_“That's because I did. And no, I don't think it's a good idea either, but what could I do? He's in charge.”_

Ivanova snapped. “Precisely, Mr Garibaldi, which is exactly _why_ you should have stopped him!” She paused to build up a little steam. “What were you thinking, letting him go off like that alone? He's the commander of the station; why didn't you try to stop him?”

_“Don't blame me for all this!”_ Garibaldi snapped back. _“I couldn't have stopped him even if I'd wanted to, you know how he is.”_

“You have a security team with you; he's just one man,” Ivanova replied. “Of course you could have stopped him if you had wanted to!”

_“Look, if Jeff wants to get himself killed, then nobody and nothing could stop him!”_

Garibaldi knew in an instant he had gone too far. His own concern for his friend had made him voice something he never wanted to say, especially not announce it to the whole command deck. He couldn't see Ivanova's face but he had a pretty good idea how she looked; white, pinched expression, eyes dark with fury. He'd never admit it to anyone but she scared him sometimes, and this was one of those times. He was glad there were so many decks between them. In a way he knew she was right, he _could_ have stopped Sinclair, but he was so shocked by the Commander's decision he didn't react quick enough, and to Garibaldi, that was a sad state of affairs for the chief of security.

_“Look, Ivanova, I'm sorry. It's just...when he does this whole 'heroic' thing, it drives me nuts. Cuts into my business, you know?”_ Garibaldi replied, trying to make light of the situation.

Ivanova realised she too had over-reacted, let her personal feelings get in the way, and she knew in that instant that no matter what happened in the future, she and Sinclair would never be anything more than friends. They couldn't be because if there was a chance it would affect her performance as a soldier, she wouldn't allow it.

“I understand, Garibaldi. The Commander's...ways take some getting used to.”

Garibaldi knew that was the closest he would get to an apology, but he took it. _“Tell me about it. Look, we're going to try and circle round, see if we can pin the creature again and hit it again.”_

Ivanova nodded even though he couldn't see her. “Keep me posted.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair didn't even consider his decision to be bad; it was automatically made, acting on pure instinct and a little bit of craziness he knew would get him into trouble afterwards. If he survived. He assumed Garibaldi had brief Ivanova on his plan, such as it was, but he wanted to make sure before he moved into position.

“Sinclair to C&C.”

_“Online. Commander, are you alright?”_

Sinclair winced. Despite the concerned question, there was venom in Ivanova's voice and suddenly facing the creature was preferable to facing his second-in-command after the crisis was over. “I'm fine. I need you to track my movements and when the time comes, do exactly as I say.”

_“Understood.”_

He then put everything aside and concentrated on luring the creature into the docking bay. He admitted, in the dark recesses of his mind, that he actually enjoyed baiting it, taunting it, making it angry. It indulged his reckless side in a way he rarely got to do, and though he knew he shouldn't, he pushed the creature further than he needed to, forgetting that Ivanova could hear everything. She stood in the observation dome, face pale and pinched with fury, tinged with admiration. She found herself impressed once again by Sinclair, as a warrior this time, but annoyed with his self-destructive behaviour. And then he and the creature were in position; all that was left was for Sinclair to get out.

“Standing by for emergency decompression,” Ivanova stated.

_“Wait!”_ Sinclair replied sharply, his voice taut. Her voice startled him, and he found he was immediately distracted by it, distracted by the note of worry that he really didn't need to hear at that moment.

Then it became clear he wasn't getting out and he ordered her to seal the hatches. For the first time, and what would be one of the only times, Ivanova hesitated, unable to stop herself from pointing out that he would be killed as well. Sinclair's reply told her he already knew that and was willing to accept it; Ivanova found she could not. Suddenly she wanted to give him a reason to live, or even _be_ that reason. But she complied with his orders without arguing, and tried to isolate her personal feelings and remain professional. He was doing what was best for them all, like a true warrior.

When Sinclair's tone suddenly changed, Ivanova found herself paying even more attention to him than normal. The man seemed to grow more complex with each new situation that came their way. One minute he was aggressive, strong, and slightly crazy, then next gentle, but firm. He was a soldier and diplomat rolled into one, and as he talked the creature down, forcing it to destroy itself and let Nelson go, Ivanova wanted to emulate him as best she could, something she had never felt towards anyone else.

Minus the suicidal streak, of course.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair stared straight ahead at the wall behind his desk, looking but not seeing it. There was a great deal of truth in Garibaldi's words, and once his anger had passed, Sinclair admitted to himself that he was, or at least had been, looking for a way to go out in a blaze of glory. But he didn't see his act as a heroic one, or thing of himself as a hero at all; all the heroes he knew had died. He was grateful for Garibaldi's concern, but in truth his old friend had shamed him into admitting the truth, and he was having a hard time coming to terms with his almost psychotic tendencies. He told himself it was for the good of the station, and in part that was true, but there was also a deep need within him for recklessness, and now it had been pointed out to him so bluntly, he realised it was such an integral part of him that he would have a hard time letting go. Like a drug addict giving up dust, or an alcoholic giving up the drink. Sinclair was strong enough to do it, of that he was certain, but the question was did he really want to?

The chimes sounded and he closed his eyes, not relishing the thought of another visitor, especially when he had a pretty good idea who it would be. But he knew she would not be put off and the longer he made her wait, the more furious she would grow. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and said, “Come.” The Ivanova who walked into Sinclair's quarters was not the one he was expecting, and he immediately grew wary. “Lieutenant Commander?” His tone was questioning.

Ivanova just stared at him. He looked beat up, grey under his skin, but it was his eyes which shocked her most; they seemed haunted and lost at the same time. So much pain in full view at once startled her, but not as much as his lack of attempt to hide it. “I just wanted to brief you on the artefacts, Commander.”

He gestured to the armchair. “Have a seat.”

“Earthforce Defence have ordered them to be sent back to Earth to be studied properly.” Her tone of voice clearly indicated what she thought about the situation.

“And I'm guessing we don't have a choice in the matter?”

“They've probably already been loaded onto a ship by now, Commander.”

Sinclair sighed. “I see.” There wasn't much point in getting angry about it; the decision had already been made and executed, and to cause a ruckus would only lower the opinion of him, or so he thought. He took a sip of his drink, aware Ivanova was watching his every move and he knew she had more to say. “Something else, Lieutenant Commander?”

“Yes, sir, there is.” She looked genuinely concerned and he found himself feeling guilty for putting her through one of his crazy stunts so soon into her posting on the station. “You told me not long ago that you wanted me to remind you not to put yourself in danger. You said that Mr Garibaldi does his best to keep you in line, and now you had me as well. Yet today you did something that was completely irresponsible. You saved the station – in a brilliant way, I might add – yet you put yourself at unnecessary risk. The entire station is singing your praises as a hero, and maybe you are. But this station needs a solid leader more than it needs a hero, Commander.” Ivanova paused, but she didn't look away, just took a deep breath and carried on. “I was too young for the Minbari war, but my brother served in Earthforce. That's when he died.”

Sinclair had read her file, the information was nothing new. “I know, I'm sorry.”

“I'm not. Not as such. If he had survived, he would have felt like you do, I imagine; guilty. Guilty that you kept on living when so many others didn't,” she said in a quiet, controlled voice. “And what adds to that guilt is the fact that you were probably happy you survived.”

Sinclair's face darkened somewhat but he remained silent, the atmosphere growing decidedly chilly. Garibaldi could have gotten away with saying such things, as they had been friends for a long time, but Ivanova, who barely knew Sinclair? And the worst part was, she was right.

She was also completely unperturbed by his cold shoulder routine. “I'm not saying this to upset you in any way, Commander, I hope you realise that. And I imagine Mr Garibaldi has already had similar words with you. I'm saying this because I understand how you feel. I am a soldier; it is not just a career, but my duty. It is what I was meant to do. If I had been in the war and survived as you did, I would be looking for a way to make my survival mean something, to make my life has meaning and purpose once more. But being in my position, looking at yours, I would say find another reason, Commander. Something less destructive, perhaps, that has a more positive impact on your life.” _'Like me,'_ she added silently.

Sinclair stayed silent as he considered her words, unknowingly thinking the same thing as she was. Ivanova would make an excellent reason to live for, but an impossible one. Still, her words carried truth, and he couldn't help but respect that. “I appreciate you coming here and talking me to, Ivanova. I realise who difficult the decision may have been for you. And...thank you, for your concern, and for not being afraid to speak your mind. It's an admirable trait, one I respect.” And he inclined his head to her.

Ivanova tried not the smile, but the light touched her eyes anyway as she nodded back. “I should leave you to get some rest.” She stood. “Commander.”

Sinclair didn't want her to go but had no reason for her to stay. Things were still not completely right between them, he could feel it, but without saying things he was trying hard to keep secret, he couldn't it. Instead, he just smiled rather wearily. “Good night, Lieutenant Commander.”

She stopped short of the door opening. “By the way, your interview has been re-scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. Even in your current state, you still have to to it. But it was a nice attempt at getting out of it.” Then she did smile.

He smiled right back, the last of the tension, ebbing away. “And here was me thinking you were going to protect me.”

“I can change the time to 0700 instead, if you like, sir,” Ivanova said sweetly.

“Ah, no, thanks.”

“Good night, Commander.”

“Good night, Lieutenant Commander.”

TBC


	6. 104 Born to the Purple

_March 2258_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Commander.”

Sinclair looked up from his paperwork, slightly distracted. He smiled instinctively when he saw Ivanova hovering in the doorway of his office, but then he took in her stiff stance and tight expression. His smile softened and he turned his full concentration on her, putting the pen down and folding his hands in front of him on the desk.

“Lieutenant Commander. Have a seat.”

Ivanova sat with her back straight and her shoulders back as normal, but Sinclair sensed some unease in her, which he knew would only disappear when she had said what she came to say. “How are negotiations going on the Euphrates treaty?”

He knew the treaty was not the burden on her mind, but played along anyway and pulled a face. “They would go fine, if I could get Londo and G'Kar together and in one place long enough to talk about it, somewhere other than a dancer's joint.”

Ivanova's eyebrows rose dramatically. “While on duty, Commander?”

He mock-glared at her. “We had to track Londo down, and he was either there or the casino.”

“Of course,” she replied.

“Though the way G'Kar was acting, I think I might have had better luck holding the negotiations there.” Sinclair shook his head. “Would you believe they actually had a drink together? Before G'Kar's new aide turned up.”

“So of the main ambassadors, there's only Delenn without an aide. Curious.”

“And Kosh.”

Ivanova looked at him. “Seriously, Commander? Do you really think a Vorlon needs help?”

“Do you really want me to answer that, Lieutenant Commander?” he replied with a smile before turning serious, deciding he would have to make the first move in getting her to open up. “Now, what did you really want to see me about?”

Outwardly there was no sign of her distress, but Sinclair saw Ivanova's fingers twitched nervously and it disturbed him. “I have something to ask you, sir. Off the record. If I may.”

Sinclair took a brief moment to consider his second-in-command, knowing what it must have cost her to say that to him. “Of course.”

“I need to use the Gold Channel, but I can't tell you why. All I can say is it is for personal reasons. But...I don't want there to be any official record of it. I know that must sound strange but....”

“Alright.”

Ivanova stared at Sinclair, waiting for him to continue, but when it became clear that was all he was going to say on the matter, her eyebrows rose slightly in astonishment. “Is that it? Sir?”

Sinclair smiled gently. “Ivanova, I trust you implicitly. If you're asking me this, it must be very important. I'm not going to say no.”

If she was surprised at his statement, she didn't let it show. Instead she just nodded curtly. “Thank you, sir.”

“There is one thing, though.”

The corners of her mouth twitched slightly. “I thought there might be.”

“Garibaldi has a habit of finding secrets out. Be prepared for him taking this very seriously,” Sinclair said.

Ivanova nodded again, her expression serious once more. “I understand, sir. I'm sure I can handle Mr Garibaldi.” She stood and strode from his office, but paused in the doorway. “Thank you.”

“Ivanova.”

“Yes, Commander?”

“You could have used the Gold Channel regardless and erased all records of it. You didn't have to bring this to my attention.”

“No, sir.”

“Then why did you? And why won't you allow me to give you official authorisation?”

Ivanova hesitated and then took two steps back into the room. “My personal life is extremely private, Commander. And it isn't an issue of trust, before you say or even think it. It's just the way I am. I prefer to keep things to myself, whether that's a good or bad thing, I don't know. Because of that, I don't want a record of this at all. And I asked you out of courtesy, because going behind your back with this just didn't seem right at all.”

Sinclair nodded in understanding. “Thank you for your honesty...Susan. If there's anything I can do to help....”

She shook her head. “Thank you, Commander, but no. That's enough.”

“Very well. Dismissed.”

Ivanova nodded, straightened her uniform, and walked out of his office. Sinclair sat staring at the space she had just occupied, contemplating all aspects of his second-in-command, but most importantly why she would want to use the Gold Channel unauthorised, at least officially. Unofficially, he had authorised the use of it; he then grinned to himself. If Garibaldi came to him for answers, that is what he would receive. By the time the chief of security had worked through that logic, he would have forgotten all about his reasons for asking.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

It was Garibaldi's favourite time of the day, without a doubt. The station was just waking up, everything was quiet, and all he had to do was run a comm systems check, which in reality meant he could catch up on reading the newspaper. He was scanning the sports section when the computer informed him of an unauthorised communication and Garibaldi scowled, folder the paper up and putting it down.

“What? Computer, run analysis. Check that all systems are running normally.”

He sat back in his chair, leaning to one side, fingers of one hand resting against his chin, weighing up all possibilities. He'd have to talk to all the ambassadors, of course, and the senior staff, and his security force.... Garibaldi squeezed his eyes shut briefly. He should have known things were going too smoothly lately, and reluctantly tapped his comm link.

“Garibaldi to Sinclair.”

_“Sinclair.”_

“Commander, I've turned up an unauthorised transmission on one of the Gold Channels. Thought you should know about it.”

Sinclair sighed. _“Alright. Run it by the EO and I'll check back when I can.”_

Garibaldi didn't try to hide his surprise. He knew the Commander was busy, but still, something like this would usually require his attention. And though he knew he should have just taken the order for what it was, he couldn't help himself questioning it. “Commander? You want me to hand this off to Ivanova?”

_“Is there some problem, Chief?”_

He caught the warning tone, but ignored it. “No, sir, I just thought....”

_“Michael, I'm up to my neck in talks with Londo and G'Kar right now,”_ Sinclair said in an exasperated tone. _“Ivanova is more than capable of dealing with the situation. Inform her and I'll check in when I can.”_

“Will do, Commander,” Garibaldi replied, cutting the comm link. He stared unseeing for a moment, replaying the conversation in his head. It seemed perfectly reasonable yet something struck him as odd. He just couldn't put his finger on it.

_“Scan complete. All systems are functioning normally,”_ the computer chirped.

Garibaldi pulled a face. “Great. Now I have to start asking questions....” He sighed and hauled himself to his feet.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

In the conference room, G'Kar was looking at Sinclair with mild interest. “Problem, Commander? Other than Ambassador Mollari's continued absence.”

“Someone using the Gold Channel when they shouldn't be, or so Mr Garibaldi thinks,” Sinclair replied, looking directly at G'Kar.

The Narn ambassador held his hands up. “It wasn't me, Commander.”

Sinclair looked at Vir. “Mr Cotto.”

Vir was too preoccupied with his game; he answered, but didn't look up. “Yes?”

“Do you know anything about this?”

“About what?”

Sinclair looked at Talia, who wore an expression of bemusement. “Mr Cotto, try Ambassador Mollari again.” He reached across the table and yanked the game from his hands. “Now.”

Vir looked as though he was going to protest, then realised who he would be standing up to and scurried out of the room. Talia took that as her cue and also left, leaving Sinclair to nod to the Narns and follow her out.

“Talia, are you alright?”

“Oh, I'm fine, Commander. It's just too much strong emotion in proximity can be hard to take.”

“I didn't realise. I'm sorry.” Sinclair sighed and put his hands in his pockets. “I'll try to make negotiations as quick as possible...when Londo shows up.”

Talia regarded him carefully, trying not to read his mind at all, but being so close to him it was difficult, and one person stood out prominently from his surface thoughts. Raising her defences even higher, she asked him a question, hoping to distract him from what he probably didn't even realise he was thinking about. “These talks are very important to you, aren't they?”

Sinclair nodded. “Londo and G'Kar both know a peaceful settlement in the Euphrates sector will benefit everyone. I just need them to realise that truth. That's where you come in.”

She smiled. “I'll try. And the answer to your question in there, to Vir? He doesn't know anything. And neither do I. I hope that narrows your list down a little.”

Sinclair just smiled. “It's Garibaldi's job, not mine. I'm sure he'll figure it out sooner or later.”

Talia just smiled back, the knowledge of what was really going on not something she wanted, but was now stuck in her memory. She found Sinclair's understanding nature noble, his kindness touching, yet there was something very profound about his character she had trouble pinpointing. And as far as Ivanova was concerned...she was certain he didn't know how loudly he was projecting his feelings for her, not only with his thoughts but his whole body language. It was something she could have reported; she knew someone somewhere in Psi Corps would find the information interesting. But she wasn't interested in gossiping, and so she kept it to herself. After all, what was one more secret?

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

When the door opened to the command deck, Ivanova saw Garibaldi walk through it out of the corner of her eye. Assuming an air of calmness, she glanced at him briefly. “The Commander isn't here. He's in talks with the Centauri and Narn over the Euphrates treaty.”

“I know. I came to talk to you,” Garibaldi replied, and explained what had happened. “Commander Sinclair told me to inform you, so you could deal with it.”

Ivanova wasn't surprised by the news, but she was surprised at tone of almost-disapproval in his voice. “I see. Well, I'll look into when my other duties permit.” And with that, she turned away.

Garibaldi stared at her back and frowned. Taking three long strides, he came alongside her once more. “Lieutenant Commander, Gold Channels are priority only, for use only by express order of Commander Sinclair,” he said, irate that Ivanova didn't seem to be taking it seriously. “If security has been compromised....”

“Have you checked all possible reasons? Computer error? Maybe someone trying to save a few credits?”

“The computer is running fine, and no one is admitting to using it,” Garibaldi replied.

“That may be your problem right there,” Ivanova pointed out dryly. “Maybe it's what us Russian pilots used to call 'gremlins'.”

“Lieutenant Commander....”

Ivanova turned and looked at him firmly. “Mr Garibaldi, if you are that worried, I suggest you monitor the Gold Channels more closely. Now I have things to do so is there anything else? No? Good. Then there no further need for us to chat.”

Garibaldi understood that the conversation was well and truly over, and being dismissed so abruptly made his hackles rise, but he took the hint and strode off. He wasn't totally convinced Ivanova didn't know anything, but willing to let it lie, at least for the time being. Instead of worrying at the problem, he pushed it out of his mind and began his rounds, unaware his exit from the observation dome had been timed. Exactly two minutes after he had left, Ivanova excused herself and made her way to Sinclair's office, the shakes only starting once she was certain she was alone. She was not a nervous person, it simply wasn't part of her character, and usually, such subterfuge would be a mark against her honour. But it was the same honour – and a healthy dose of stubbornness – which had created the situation in the first place. She sighed, wondering why it was so difficult to just tell the truth, to ask for leave to go back to Earth. But she knew the answer; Sinclair needed her on the station, especially while he was negotiating such a delicate and important treaty. Peace in the Euphrates sector would benefit Earth well, and she knew it was taking a lot of Sinclair's diplomatic skills to make sure Londo and G'Kar kept the talks on a civilised level. There simply wasn't time for personal issues to get in the way of duty, even something as important as this. Besides, Ivanova knew what Sinclair would do and say if he knew her father was dying; he would most likely put her on the first transport to Earth himself, telling her to come back only when she was good and ready. But he didn't know, she wasn't going to tell him, and that was the end of it.

Straightening her uniform and taking a deep breath, her mask of professionalism back in place, Ivanova headed back to the observation dome.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair was unwisely considering two things; murdering Londo and the issue which was bothering Ivanova. Talia could sense both; the first caused her great amusement, though she hid it well, but the second she was trying to ignore. G'Kar and Ko D'ath were abusing Vir's video game because it was making them angry, and that in turn was upsetting the Centauri. All in all, it was a telepath's nightmare and she tried to massage her temples subtly, but Sinclair noticed. Moving to her side, being careful not to touch her, he asked, “Are you alright?”

Talia nodded. “I'm fine, it's just...there's a lot of emotion in this room, and the longer Ambassador Mollair is absent, the stronger it gets.”

Sinclair nodded slightly, his face softening. “I'm sorry,” he said, and Talia actually felt him pull his thoughts back and project a calming air. It was so natural, so effortless, he caught her by surprise. Most people couldn't control their thoughts in such a way, and she found it was actually a nice change.

She saw his expression shift and smiled reassuringly. “I'm fine, Commander,” she repeated. “Thank you.”

He was about to say something else when Talia looked over his shoulder, sensing something he couldn't yet see, but thirty seconds later, Londo tried to unsuccessfully sneak into the room, muttering insincere apologies about his tardiness. Sinclair rolled his eyes and gestured for Talia to sit, taking his place at the opposite end of the table.

“Now we're all here,” he said, glaring at Londo for emphasis, “Perhaps we can begin....”

Some hours later, dressed in civilian clothing, Sinclair led Talia into the Fresh Air restaurant. She looked around, marvelling at the place. “This is wonderful.”

Sinclair smiled. “When I was assigned here, they were still finishing the station. After taking a look at the plans, I realised there was enough space for a few...extras.”

“Like this place?” she asked.

He nodded. “And another project, but that's still in the design stage. The Zen garden was another. People need quiet and calm places, different places to meet for all walks of life. I think it's important.”

“This station is very important to you, isn't it?” Talia said, leaning on the table to study him. “And the talks are as well.”

Sinclair nodded again and began talking about work, all the while watching the woman in front of him. She was attractive, especially with her hair up, and while he liked and respected her, she simply wasn't his type. Inwardly he shook his head; was he so desperate to prove to himself that his feelings for Ivanova were simply platonic that he was eyeing up every other woman as a potential partner?

“I figured after the effort you put in today, you deserved this,” Sinclair finished up after discussing the talks.

Talia smiled and rolled her eyes. “They were quite a mindful.”

He laughed at her turn of phrase and the rest of the evening passed quite pleasantly. He walked her to her quarters, out of sheer chivalry, said good night without expectation, and then strolled back to his own quarters. Stepping out of the transport tube, he almost ran headlong into Garibaldi.

“Problem?” Sinclair asked.

The security chief nodded. “Someone just used the Gold Channel again. I tried to track it and they used ICE.”

“So they know what they're doing,” Sinclair said grimly.

“That's what I thought,” Garibaldi agreed. “But this time I got a bit of a lead.”

“Have you informed Ivanova?”

“I was just on my way up to C&C to do that, and to check transmissions from there as well.”

“Good. Keep me informed.”

“Will do.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

After contacting Earth again to find out the condition of her father, Ivanova had taken a short walk to clear her head. She wanted to see Sinclair, to tell him everything, but it was just too soon and too personal. She also found she wanted to go back to Earth, to see her father, something she never thought she could feel after everything that had happened. Perhaps she wasn't as damaged as she felt.

As she walked onto the command deck, Ivanova saw Garibaldi tapping away at her console. “Garibaldi, is there a good reason for what you're doing or to save time should I just cut your hands off at the wrists?” she asked in an amused tone. She realised she had been harsh to him earlier, and despite certain misgivings she had about him – mainly regarding his sense of humour – decided to make more of an effort to build a friendship with him.

He shot her a withering glance and went back to his task. “Our 'gremlin' made another call,” he said.

“Did you track it?” Ivanova asked, all business.

“Yep. Got a fix on the Russian Consortium and then I hit a wall program. Hard,” he replied.

Ivanova swallowed and hoped Garibaldi hadn't seen her brief look of panic. “Then it'll show up on a scan.”

“Which is what I'm doing....” He stared expectantly at the console, then exclaimed, “What?” when the computer came up with a negative result.

“Computer, show all Gold Channel transmissions within the last hour.”

_“No transmissions recorded.”_

Garibaldi was frowning and shaking his head, and Ivanova regarded him with mild amusement. “Are you sure this isn't just a figment of your demented imagination? A cry for help, perhaps?”

He scowled back, secretly glad she was starting to relax about him, but irritated he couldn't find the answer to the problem. “Okay. I get it.” He smiled tightly and walked off. He didn't hear or see the sigh of relief Ivanova issued when he left. He had other things on his mind.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Lieutenant Commander.”

Ivanova turned and nodded to Sinclair, who had just caught her up in the corridor. “Commander.”

“A word, please.” He guided her into the Zen garden, which was thankfully empty. “Mr Garibaldi is becoming irritated.”

Ivanova sighed. “I'm sorry, Commander.”

He waited until she looked at him, then smiled. “It isn't an accusation and I don't want you to stop, I'm just warning you that Michael can be extremely persistent when he chooses to be.”

“Which is most of the time.”

“True. Listen, why don't you use my office in future for these communications? It's more private, for one, and it may just throw Garibaldi off the trail,” Sinclair suggested. For some reason, he sensed the offer was needed and would gratefully received, even if she didn't show it.

For a moment, Ivanova was silent, then finally she said, “Thank you, Commander.”

He was surprised there was no arguments or protests, but secretly glad. “Good. Now I have to and play diplomat again.” He rolled his eyes.

“How are negotiations going?” she asked as they left the garden.

“Slowly. Both Londo and G'Kar are drawing this out as long as they can, each hoping the other will give in first, which would be fine if I wasn't involved. But even my patience has limits.”

That statement more than anything else reassured Ivanova she had made the right decision by not asking for leave to go back to Earth, although she was quite certain Sinclair would not see it that way. “If there's anything I can do to help....”

Sinclair smiled. “Just keep the rest of the station together for me.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

When Vir turned up at the talks to represent Londo, and G'Kar walked out, leaving Ko D'ath in charge, Sinclair decided enough was enough. Turning to Talia, he murmured in a firm voice, “Keep them talking. I'm going to find Londo and bring him here.”

Talia raised her eyebrows. “What if he refuses?”

“Then I hurt him,” Sinclair said before winking and walking out.

She laughed a little, but had the feeling he was quite serious. Not that she blamed him. Negotiations which should have taken a reasonable amount of time were taking four times as long at least, which was a waste of both his time and hers. True, they were both getting paid, but there were other matters for them both to attend to. Straightening, Talia looked at the table, where Ko D'ath was glaring at Vir, who looked like he wanted to run and hide but didn't dare, and her shoulders slumped in defeat. Looking at the situation, she decided that Sinclair had the easier end of the deal.

Out in the corridor, the Commander tapped his link as he walked. “Sinclair to C&C.”

_“Online,”_ Ivanova's voice came back to him.

“I need you to locate Ambassador Mollari for me,” he said as he strode towards the transport tube.

Ivanova registered the stress in his voice and quickly got to work. _“It appears he's still in his quarters, according to the entrance log,”_ she told him after a few seconds.

“Thanks.”

_“Is everything alright, Commander?”_ Ivanova asked.

“They will be, once I get hold of Londo,” Sinclair said.

_“Ah.”_

“Remind me again, Lieutenant Commander, what is the protocol on killing an ambassador?”

_“You personally, sir? I wouldn't recommend it. Then again, the security chief is a very good friend, so perhaps that might work in your favour.”_

Sinclair smiled to himself. “It's worth considering. Sinclair out.”

He had wanted to say more to her, but not on an open channel. Hopefully, before too long, he would get that chance. He just had to know that she was okay, that she was coping properly with whatever personal crisis she was dealing with, and not just hiding behind duty; if she needed to go back to Earth, Sinclair would rather Ivanova tell him then he could arrange leave for her, rather than keep it to herself.

As he rounded the corner in green sector, Londo came out of his quarters, and Sinclair hailed him. The conversation took a quick turn but the Commander was able to use the situation to his advantage, and the next thing he knew was he and the Centauri ambassador were heading to the Dark Star club, after a brief stop at Sinclair's quarters for some sort of disguise. As they spoke to the dancers, after some quick talking on the Commander's part, he once again found himself looking at the women and comparing them to Ivanova, not able to stop himself, and he sighed. He couldn't remember the last time his self-discipline had been so bad, and decided then and there it was something he needed to work on right away.

Of course, when he and Londo were being chased, Sinclair couldn't help but think of Ivanova; he wondered what she would have to say about the situation, about him going off alone and doing something crazy. Although to be fair, it wasn't Sinclair's fault or decision this time, but he doubted that would make any different to Ivanova.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova looked at the clock. It was time again, and because of the report of heavy weapon fire she had just received from Brown 7, she knew Garibaldi wouldn't be anywhere about, so she was safe. All she had to do was pass the information onto him, order him to check it out, and promise to keep an eye out for his gremlin. As soon as the comm channel was cut, Ivanova left C&C and went straight to Sinclair's office.

But Garibaldi didn't leave his office; he sent a team to investigate instead. He had reached the only logical conclusion he could about who was responsible for the unauthorised Gold Channel communications; the Russian Consortium had been something of a give away, yet he couldn't understand why Ivanova would choose to go behind Sinclair's back. Yet something about Sinclair's manner in the whole affair didn't ring true either; it was almost like he knew what was going on, yet was remaining silent. Garibaldi couldn't understand why it was all such a big secret, why the conspiracy. Yet it was possible the Commander _didn't_ know what was happening; he had, after all, been negotiating the Euphrates treaty with the Narn and Centauri for what seemed like a lifetime, and during talks had turned over a great deal of the stations operations to Ivanova. He supposed he could have asked, but that would have taken away his fun of guessing and testing his instincts.

Then Garibaldi saw the reason for the subterfuge; he watched Ivanova's father apologising to her, and then dying. He knew she would never had asked for leave during such a tense time on the station, regardless of the fact that Sinclair would have given it to her and that he would be quite annoyed if he found out about all of this. Which confirmed to Garibaldi that his old friend didn't know what was going on, and he intended to keep it that way. The only thing left for him to decide was whether to confront Ivanova over his discovery, or not.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“All of which hinge on my testimony,” Londo was saying back in Sinclair's quarters. They had escaped Trakis' thugs, but Adira was still missing. Sinclair was trying to find a way to resolve the situation but without any luck.

“There is another alternative,” he said eventually. “Let me make a call.” Londo threw his hands up in submission and went to stand outside. “Sinclair to C&C.”

_“Commander.”_

His brain was telling him to respond but all he could hear was the utter anguish in Ivanova's voice. It made him want to drop everything and run to the command deck to check up on her, but he didn't, couldn't, wouldn't. He also forced himself to not ask if she was alright; he knew it was the last thing she needed to hear.

“I need you to contact Talia Winters,” Sinclair said eventually, once he was certain he was back in control of himself. “Ask her to come to my quarters immediately.”

Ivanova was surprised by the request, but it only showed in her face, not her voice. _“Right away, Commander.”_

Once again alone and in silence, she allowed fresh tears to fall, because although Sinclair had thought he was in control, Ivanova had heard the concern in his voice, his own raw emotion showing through, and more than before she longed to tell him everything. But she didn't, couldn't, wouldn't.

A short time later, the door to the command deck hissed open and Ivanova turned slightly, wondering who it was. When Garibaldi appeared, she took one look at his face and knew she had been discovered, but she put an innocent face on.

“I thought you'd be in Brown 7, Chief,” she said, her attention focussed on the console in front of her, ignoring the amount of time which had elapsed between that incident and his appearance on the command deck.

“It's taken care of,” Garibaldi replied, coming to a stop next to her.

“Good.” A pause. “Anything else?”

He nodded. “Our gremlin made another call, and...well it seems you were right. It was a computer error.”

Ivanova tried not to show her relief. “Good,” she repeated. “Is the problem fixed now?”

Garibaldi nodded again. “I'm pretty sure it won't happen again...will it?”

She swallowed hard, touched by his concern over the entire matter, but also a little ashamed over her conduct. “No, it won't,” she promised, holding back the tears.

Garibaldi watched her, painfully aware of her suffering but unsure how to comfort her. Instead, he just bounced his hands off the railing a couple of times before walking off, but he stopped in the doorway. “Buy you a drink?”

“I'm on duty,” Ivanova replied stiffly. He nodded in understanding and carried on walking, but her voice stopped him. “Garibaldi! Another time?”

“Look forward to it,” he said, smiling in appreciation of the effort she was making.

After he left, Ivanova stared out of the observation dome, allowing the tears to fall freely, mourning the father she had lost in the only way she could; privately.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Commander!”

Sinclair slowed long enough for Garibaldi to catch up with him. “Chief. Everything okay?”

“I was just going to ask you that. I heard what happened with Londo, and his dancer.”

“No one was harmed.”

“Except the slaver. Not that I've got a problem with that,” Garibaldi added. “I also hear you managed to conclude negotiations for the Euphrates treaty.”

Sinclair nodded. “In a way that made everyone reasonably happy. Not a bad day's work. What about you? Any luck with those unauthorised transmissions?”

Garibaldi's expression became distant briefly. “Seems it was a computer error, something I overlooked. But it's fixed and won't be happening again.”

“Security is still intact?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Sinclair studied his old friend. “Anything else, Chief?”

Garibaldi shook his head, his decision already made. “No, Commander.”

“Then if you'll excuse me, I have some place to be.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

He was in the Zen garden, just as she knew he would be. For a moment she considered turning around and leaving; for a moment she considered letting her mask fall and letting him see her pain. Retreating was the winning option until he turned, fluidly, his eyes locking instantly with hers, and she knew then that leaving was not acceptable. And as she stared into his amber depths, she realised she didn't have to drop her mask; in that moment, he could see right through her.

“I don't know why you're in pain, and I'm certain you won't tell me,” Sinclair said quietly, his deep voice rumbling. “But there is no shame in feeling what you're feeling.”

“In another time, another place, I think I would tell you everything,” Ivanova admitted.

“And that scares you.” It isn't an accusation or a slight, just a simple statement of truth.

“Yes.”

Wordlessly, Sinclair moved slightly, making room for her on the bench. Ivanova took the invitation, making sure to keep as much distance between them as possible. He pretended not to notice; she was appreciative of his lie.

“Thank you for the use of the Gold Channel, but I won't be needing it any more.”

“Garibaldi said the problem had been fixed,” Sinclair said quietly. Ivanova turned to look at her, her expression one of shock. “But that's all he told me.” He was aware that Garibaldi knew far more about the situation than he did, and that if he pressed his old friend he could get some answers, but he wouldn't.

Ivanova allowed herself to finally let out a sigh of relief. “Mr Garibaldi is a good man.”

“One of the best.”

“How are the negotiations going with Ambassadors Mollari and G'Kar?” Ivanova asked after a few moments of silence.

Sinclair turned to look at her. “You haven't heard?” When she shook her head, he took a deep breath and recounted the story of Adira being a slave and stealing files from Londo, which G'Kar helped get back, with Talia's assistance.

Ivanova shook her head. “I can't believe there's still slavery in the galaxy. And the Centauri call themselves civilised.” Then she glanced sideways at Sinclair, a glimmer of her usual mischief in her eyes. “Did you enjoy your dinner with Ms Winters?”

“After spending so much time dealing with Londo and G'Kar, I thought she deserved it,” Sinclair replied mildly. Though the question was innocently put, he thought he sensed an undercurrent of...hostility from his second-in-command, though whether that was just because of her dislike of the Psi Corps or some other personal reason, he didn't know.

“She seems competent,” Ivanova stated, though there was no feeling behind her words.

Sinclair saw right through her and smiled. “I'm sure you have your reasons for disliking her, Lieutenant Commander.” _'And perhaps one day I will find out,'_ he added silently. “But yes, she is very competent. I was impressed with the way she handled the negotiations for the treaty.”

Ivanova just nodded, taking his words on board but not reacting to them. She knew she should try to separate the person from the organisation but when it came to Psi Corps, that was much easier said than done. They descended into silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable, each occupied with their own thoughts.

“Do you get back to Earth much?” Sinclair asked quietly after a few moments.

Ivanova was silent for a while longer, and he knew that whatever moment they had been sharing was now broken. Smoothly, she rose to her feet and straightened her uniform. “It's late, Commander, and as I have the early shift, I think I'll turn in.” When she turned to look at him, there was no trace of pain or vulnerability in her gaze, just the steadfast Lieutenant Commander he had grown to know. She nodded to him. “Good night.”

“Good night, Ivanova,” Sinclair replied, watching her go and continuing to stare in that direction long after she had disappeared from view. In his mind, he knew something was happening, could feel it in the depth of his soul. He knew it would be momentous in time; he just didn't know exactly what 'it' was. And he wasn't ashamed to admit that it frightened him.

TBC


	7. 105 Parliament of Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter shows the first really major deviation from the series, mainly involving Sinclair and Catherine. But hopefully it works. :)

_March 2258_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

_“Commander, we have a problem.”_

Sinclair sighed and put his drink down. For once, he wanted to be able to eat breakfast in peace and quiet, without emergencies and problems, but it obviously wasn't going to happen any time soon. “What is it, Lieutenant Commander?”

Ivanova sighed. She hadn't wanted to disturb him, but this was serious. _“I think you need to come to the briefing room, sir.”_

Her tone of voice made him pay more attention, and suddenly he was alert. “On my way.”

Ten minutes later, Sinclair found Ivanova stood with her hands clasped behind her back waiting for him. “I'm sorry to interrupt breakfast, Commander, but this couldn't wait.”

“What's happened?”

“It's Ambassador G'Kar's aide, Ko D'ath. She has met with...an unfortunate accident.”

“What kind of accident?”

“Something to do with an airlock,” Ivanova replied. “Mr Garibaldi didn't give me too many details and to be honest, Commander, I didn't want too many.”

Sinclair pulled a face. “I don't blame you.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Has Ambassador G'Kar been informed?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is Mr Garibaldi ruling out sabotage?”

Ivanova smiled. “Mr Garibaldi _never_ rules out sabotage.”

“Good point.”

_“Garibaldi to Sinclair.”_

“Sinclair.”

_“Commander, I have to initial report on the accident.”_

“We're in briefing room one.”

_“See you in five.”_

Sinclair gestured to the chairs at the table. “We may as well make ourselves comfortable.”

They sat down next to each other, relaxed and at ease, and Ivanova broached a safe topic of conversation. “So, what do you think about Earthforce's decision to hold a week long celebration of religious services here?”

“You mean what do I think of the idea in general, or just having it here?” Sinclair asked with a smile.

“Both. Sir,” Ivanova replied, her face straight but her tone amused.

“I think in theory it's a wonderful idea. Religion can cause so many problems, so many misunderstandings. If we share our practices, then maybe we can get to know one another better and avoid bad situations.”

“Like what started the war?” she asked tentatively.

Sinclair nodded gravely. “Exactly. Although some of the ceremonies sound....”

“Dull? Dreary? Overzealous?” Ivanova supplied helpfully.

Sinclair mock-glared at her. “I was thinking more along the lines of 'interesting', Lieutenant Commander.”

“Of course you were, Commander.” Her tone clearly stated she didn't believe him at all. “Do you know how you're going to display Earth's dominant religion?” She paused. “Do we _have_ a dominant religion these days?”

“In order, I'm trying not to think about it and I don't know.”

Ivanova regarded him for a moment, capturing his relaxed features in her mind, as they seemed to be rarely seen in repose. “Do you need some help with it?” she asked in a quiet voice.

Sinclair had drifted for a moment, his mind turning to solving the problem she had just reminded him of, but her voice brought him back to the present and he focussed instantly on her. Her face was open, sincere; there was no ulterior motive, nothing except the desire to learn and help. It was a perfect moment of connection between the two, when once again anything seemed possible despite being obviously impossible.

Until Garibaldi walked in. “Looks like it _was_ an accident,” he said abruptly, completely oblivious to what he had just interrupted. “Seems the airlock malfunctioned due to some fault or other.”

“Explain,” Sinclair said, frowning.

“Well the airlock in question was repaired just a couple of days ago,” Garibaldi replied, perching on the edge of the table. “Either the equipment used to fix it was faulty and so didn't do the job properly, or the materials used for the airlock were faulty.”

“Are you ruling out operator error?” Ivanova asked.

Garibaldi nodded. “I checked the work log for the repairs, it's on order. The airlock was even used after that.”

Sinclair and Ivanova looked at each other and then at the security chief. “Sabotage?”

“Maybe, but I doubt it. There's absolutely no motive, and it really doesn't look that way to me. I'd say it was an industrial accident and leave it at that.”

“G'Kar is not going to be happy with that.”

“He doesn't have a choice,” Garibaldi said bluntly.

Sinclair nodded somewhat glumly. “Someone should inform him.” He looked at the security chief and then his second-in-command.

Ivanova smiled quite sweetly back. “I do believe that's your job, Commander,” she said before standing and walking out of the briefing room, Garibaldi close behind her.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

A week later,the security chief knew exactly what _he_ thought about the whole 'exchange of religious ceremonies' idea and it wasn't pleasant. For others, perhaps it was interesting, even enjoyable; for him, it was one huge headache and a security nightmare. Some would say it was what he got paid for, but he sure as hell didn't get paid enough for this. Just when he thought his day couldn't get any worse, he spotted someone disembarking from the flight bay and he quickly turned his back.

“Never fails,” he muttered, shaking his head. Handing things over to his colleague, he quickly headed down the corridors.

Sinclair was busy buttoning his dress uniform up when the chimes for his door went. Frowning, he ordered the door to open and stared intently in the mirror to see who was visiting. “Garibaldi,” he said, surprised. “I thought you'd be in full dress by now.”

“I just thought you should know Catherine's on board,” Garibaldi replied without preamble, studying the Commander's face carefully to see his reaction.

Sinclair paused in what he was doing, temporarily confused by the statement. “Ah,” he said when it finally registered what Garibaldi was getting at. “Thanks.”

“Thought I'd let you know before you accidentally run in to her. Unless you want to see her,” he added hurriedly.

“No, no it's fine.” Sinclair finished dressing and checked himself in the mirror to make sure his uniform was straight, crease-free and clean. Then he turned, a smile on his face. “You'd better change. We don't want to be late for Londo's presentation. From what I've heard, it could last for days.”

“Great,” Garibaldi replied dryly, his face relatively expressionless, but the Commander's lack of interest in the news about Catherine concerned him, having been exposed to their history first hand before. He knew what they were like together, good and the bad, and he also knew that truthfully, there was no one else Sinclair cared for more. Or at least that used to be true. “I'll go and get ready then.

Sinclair smiled. “Good idea.” He didn't want to ask about Catherine, didn't really want to see her. Yet part of him thought maybe he should. To be sure of his feelings, to put certain ones behind him, to.... “Mike, was she with anyone?”

Garibaldi shook his head. “Not that I could tell.” Then he nodded once and left.

Sinclair sighed and sat suddenly on the edge of his bed. He wasn't sure why he was so surprised by Catherine's arrival on the station; it seemed they ran into each other every three years or so, and he had known they were due for another...liaison. And he did like her, care for her, but it just didn't feel right...it didn't feel like it usually did when she reappeared in his life. In fact, he couldn't stop thinking about Ivanova. The short time she had been on the station and she was already filling his mind in a way Catherine never had. But it was an impossible situation, he knew that, and perhaps Catherine's timing couldn't actually have been better. Perhaps she was what he needed to take his mind off his second-in-command. But would he be comfortable using her that way? He had to admit, neither of them were getting any younger; maybe she would want something more serious this time than a quick fling.

But then he shook his head and stood, once again smoothing his uniform down. There was no more time for such idle thoughts. Duty called.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

It was loud, it was boisterous...it was typically Centauri and typically Londo, Sinclair decided as he sat at the end of the table next to Garibaldi. And, though he would never had said so out loud, fun. Londo and Vir were clearly enjoying themselves, and Ivanova couldn't stop laughing. Sinclair smiled as he watched her and Londo talking, noting the way her eyes sparkled and how relaxed she seemed to be. The seating arrangement had been deliberate on his part, a fact he was certain Garibaldi had noticed, but had not commented on...at least not yet.

“Having fun?” the security chief asked dryly.

Sinclair gave a wry smile. “Let me get back to you.” To say 'yes' would have ruined his reputation completely.

Garibaldi leant and dropped his voice a little. “Sure you don't want to see her?”

“Who?”

“Catherine.”

“Oh. No. Absolutely not.”

Garibaldi hid his frown. Sinclair was distracted and it wasn't because of Catherine. He followed the Commander's unintentional gaze down the table, wondering whose movements he was following so carefully, and unless there was a huge secret Sinclair was hiding, he didn't see anyone worth the scrutiny. Delenn was a Minbari, and while Garibaldi knew the Commander valued her advice and opinion, counsel was the only thing he sought with her...as far as Garibaldi knew. And Ivanova...somehow he just couldn't see that one at all.

Sinclair was trying not to watch her, but seeing Ivanova looking so relaxed and happy made his heart feel like bursting. There was something in the deep recesses of his mind trying to speak to him, but he couldn't understand it; he was either listening too hard or not hard enough. He wanted to stay, wanted to enjoy this celebration with her. Wanted to wander down to the other end of the table and sit next to her, strike up a conversation. The seating arrangements had irritated him, but it was his own fault in a way. Because of Garibaldi's visit to Sinclair's quarters with the news of Catherine's arrival, they had both been late for the Centauri ceremony, and the only two seats left were at the end of the table, which put Sinclair as far away from Ivanova as possible; it felt like in more ways than one. Suddenly he made a decision, the only decision he could make, really. It was the only way to forget his feelings for Ivanova, or at least that's what he told himself.

“Where is she?”

Sinclair sounded exasperated and tired, but that was almost normal for him, so Garibaldi didn't question it too much. Instead he just told him where to find Catherine and made sure no one had noticed his quick exit. They all seemed to preoccupied with Londo clambering on the table, though, clearly worse for wear from his alcohol intake, but Garibaldi guessed that was a good thing; the sooner he passed out, the sooner they could leave. He hoped. He was right about that, as it turned out, but wrong about something else.

Ivanova had noticed Sinclair watching her, could feel his eyes upon her, burning her skin, and she tried not to encourage him. But Londo was so amusing, she couldn't help but relax and laugh around him. It felt good, especially after everything that had happened with her father. She needed to laugh. And when Londo was distracted, Ivanova took the opportunity to watch Sinclair. He too seemed distracted, and she was unsure why. Then, without warning, he left the table, which made her frown. He was a consummate diplomat, she had seen him in high gear working his charm, yet he seemed to be snubbing an important Centauri ritual for...what? It could only be a personal reason. If it was something to do with the station, or Earthforce, Garibaldi at least would have gone with him. Or he would have motioned for her to follow. Which meant personal. Which was fine. Ivanova knew he had to have a life outside work, but for some reason, some gut instinct, some hunch, she thought this distraction was a woman, and she found herself to be jealous. It was stupid, irrational, and she knew it, but....

Then Londo climbed onto the table and began naming all the Centauri Gods, terrorising Delenn in the process, and all thoughts of Sinclair went out of her mind as Ivanova began to laugh loudly again. In fact, she laughed so hard she started to cry and had to bury her head in her hands. When Vir realised Sinclair was missing and ask where he was, she surfaced long enough to look innocent and shrug, before returning her head to her hands.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Catherine was just finishing up with clients when Sinclair spotted her, and instantly he felt disappointed, almost bitter. The usual surge of attraction, almost elation at seeing her again, just wasn't there. She was still as attractive as ever, she didn't seem to have changed, but obviously his feelings for her had. But she was here now, an available option for him...and she had noticed him standing there. Perhaps it wasn't the best decision of his life, but he had made it anyway; he would try to win Catherine back, try to make a go of it again with her. Perhaps his feelings would return just as strong as before. Perhaps he would then realise Ivanova had just been an infatuation.

He was, however, not alone with his confused thoughts. Catherine was shocked to see Sinclair stood there as she looked up from the table; shocked because he was the last person she expected to see, but also because of her feelings upon seeing him. Or lack there of. Their relationship had always been somewhat unconventional in many ways, but one thing had been consistent – the first time they laid eyes on each other after a break, the attraction was mutual and undeniable. But not this time. He was still handsome, though he seemed to have aged greatly since she last saw him, but she felt no great rush to go to him. In fact, quite the opposite; she almost ran _away_ from him, something she never thought she would find herself thinking. In fact, that was exactly what Catherine decided to do. She picked up her files and started across the room away from him, knowing he had seen her look at him, knowing he would know he was being rejected quite firmly, knowing in her heart it was the right thing to do.

_“Commander?”_

Catherine stopped when she heard the voice emanating from his link. She couldn't say what it was, what primal instinct kicked up, but suddenly she felt the speaker was a threat to her and Sinclair, even though she had already decided she didn't want to see him, or even particular want him. But they did have a history and she reasoned it would be rude to not at least say hello. Before Catherine turned, Sinclair quickly took his link off, put it in his pocket and tried to ignore Ivanova's voice, and the region it seemed to be emanating from. Instead he focussed on the woman walking towards him, noting her guarded expression, the slightly stiff way she was holding herself, and he forced himself to relax and smile easily.

“Catherine.”

“Hello, Jeff. I didn't realise you were in charge of the station until I got here,” she started explaining immediately. “I don't get much chance to listen to ISN. If I'd have known I'd have stayed away. I keep my promises.”

“No, no, it's fine. You're here to do business, that's what Babylon 5 is about,” he replied, keeping his smile in place.

Catherine nodded, relaxing a little. “Thank you. How have you been?” She still seemed ill at ease around him, and Sinclair wondered if perhaps he had been a little presumptuous about his relationship with her. Maybe it wasn't as cut and dry as he thought; maybe she was having second thoughts just like he was.

“Fine. Busy.”

Then she smiled. “I can imagine.” She looked around. “You've done well for yourself. I'm glad.” She even meant it. “How's Carolyn?”

“I wouldn't know,” Sinclair replied. “We went our separate ways about a year ago.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.”

“It's okay. She wanted me to go into business with her....”

“As a trader? That's not you.”

Sinclair smiled. “No, it isn't.”

_“Commander? Commander Sinclair?”_

“Jeff, your pants are talking to you,” Catherine stated, straight-faced. “I'll let you get back to work. I have things to do as well.”

“Catherine, wait.” Sinclair took a step towards her, trying to ignore the way she tensed when he did so. “As long as you're on board, how about dinner? Just dinner,” he went on quickly, noting her shift in expression. “I'm proud of this station, of the people on board, and I'd like to show you around.”

“Alright. But just dinner,” she said firmly. Then she grinned. “I'd give you my berth number, but I'm guessing you already know it.” She nodded to him. “Commander.”

As Sinclair walked away, his heart began to ache inexplicably, and he absently rubbed the left side of his chest. They _were_ good for each other, despite their on-off relationship, and they had a long history. And he and Ivanova could still be friends....

Pulling his link out of his pocket, Sinclair stuck it back on his hand and finally answered his impatient second-in-command. “Yes, Lieutenant Commander?”

_“We may have a situation, sir.”_

“I'll be right there.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

The Minbari ceremony was, of course, markedly different to the Centauri one. It was a lot calmer, quieter, more reverent, and Ivanova found it struck a deep chord within her, which surprised her greatly. She had a somewhat tenuous relationship with God as it was; she hadn't really been raised to any particular religion, and what she had seen of life had left her with little faith. She glanced surreptitiously to her left, as G'Kar's constant movement caught her attention first, before looking to her right. The seating arrangements amused her, with Londo and G'Kar being as far away from each other as possible, Garibaldi on Sinclair's right and Ivanova on his left. She wondered if that was deliberate on Sinclair's part. But she was soon distracted from that train of thought by the expression on the Commander's face. His face was more serene than she had ever seen it, but it was also tinged with self-doubt, something which surprised her greatly. Sinclair was a confident man, with nerves of steel as she had found out already; he was a demon gambler and she would hate to play poker with him. Yet to see him unsure of himself unnerved her somewhat and she realised this was yet another side to him.

Garibaldi was also taking notes on what everyone was doing, and he was aware of Ivanova's scrutiny, though he wasn't sure whether it was aimed at himself or the Commander. Trying not to frown, he thought back to Sinclair's distracted state of mind during the Centauri ceremony and his almost complete disinterest in Catherine's presence on the station, and he started to see the weirdest picture. The facts were all pointing in one direction, which itself was impossible. Or if it was possible, it sure as hell better not happen on his turf. There was nothing this side of the galactic rim which would make him betray Sinclair in any way, shape or form, and he was starting to feel the same way about Ivanova. There was always a chance, of course that he was wrong, and they were _not_ developing romantic feelings for one another. Then he noticed something more interesting than Ivanova's intense scrutiny of Sinclair, and that was G'Kar agitated state. Now he did allow himself to frown. What sort of trouble was the Narn ambassador in or causing now, Garibaldi wondered.

Ivanova was aware of Garibaldi watching her just as Lennier came up and began handing small pieces of red fruit, and she was glad of the distraction. The security chief was far too clever by half at times, and the last thing Ivanova needed was for him to start asking awkward questions. She knew she could pass some things off as simply wanting to learn the ropes; like now, she watched how Sinclair reacted to Lennier and copied him. Then when Delenn told them, in a rather roundabout and typically Minbari way, to eat the fruit, Ivanova watched as surprisingly, Londo popped it into his mouth with hesitation, Vir ate it cautiously, and Garibaldi refused to taste it, his jaw clamped firmly shut. Then Sinclair, who had also been watching the others, turned to his left and his eyes locked with Ivanova's. The exchange was brief, but seemed to contain some sort of promise as she questioned him and he nodded imperceptibly to her. She ate the fruit, surprised by its sweetness. Sinclair was aware that Delenn was waiting for him to finish the ritual, but he couldn't take his eyes off Ivanova. Forcing himself to look back at the Minbari ambassador, he slowly put the fruit in his mouth. Delenn did the same, then they nodded to one another, and the ceremony was complete. It seemed harmless enough but Sinclair couldn't shake the feeling that something quite profound had just taken place. By his side, Ivanova silently agreed.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

It had been a long, yet not overly tiring day, and Sinclair just wanted to relax, undisturbed by absolutely everyone, listening to Tennyson in his favourite old shirt and favourite chair. His eyes closed, he let the words wash over him, ignoring the aches and pains from old wounds, ignoring the jumbled mass of thoughts of Catherine and Ivanova, and just let himself find a calm centre. Until the chimes for his door went. Sighing, Sinclair hesitated before telling the computer to pause the program, and calling for whoever was outside to enter.

Catherine breezed into his quarters, chatting animatedly, carrying some things in her arms, and looking around curiously before setting the items down on the counter. For some reason her entrance, the bold way she inspected his rooms irritated him. Their dinner the other night had shown them both that things were not the same between them any more. It had been awkward, tense, and uncomfortable; it was clear they were different people now and their feelings for one another had changed, possibly forever. Yet here she was, acting as though nothing had changed. Acting as though they could just pick up where they left off, and Sinclair found himself growing angry, though he didn't quite know why. After all, it was him who had invited her to dinner, it was him who had decided to pursue her. But even now he was regretting that course of action. Even now, he knew he had been wrong, and decided to act, cutting across her before she had finished speaking.

“What do you want?” he asked, a lot more harshly than he intended.

Catherine blanched, recoiling as though Sinclair had slapped her. Even though she had convinced herself she didn't want him, even though she knew from their dinner the previous night that he had changed far more than it first seemed, maybe even more than he was willing to admit to himself, she had still thought that maybe there would be some chance for them both to be happy, and with each other. But the way he had just spoken to her...it was like looking at a stranger, yet in some ways Catherine wondered how she hadn't noticed this part of Sinclair before. Part of her wanted to run away once more, her instincts telling her it would be the right thing to do as he was clearly pushing her away and holding her at arm's length. But part of her wanted to rebel, to push him back, to make him react in a way that was familiar to them both; she suddenly wanted him to want her.

“Maybe I needed you, maybe I just needed _someone_ ,” Catherine said, her tone challenging and reckless. But it was the truth. “All I know is that I'm tired of celebrating alone, and you're here. For one night, isn't that enough?”

Sinclair wanted to regret his outburst but couldn't. To him, things between them were pretty clear, and he thought Catherine understood how things stood as well. Yet here she was, in his quarters, practically throwing herself at him. He wasn't sure what to make of it all, but the overriding feeling was that his head was not clear and he didn't want to make a decision while in that frame of mind. Taking a deep breath, Sinclair opened his mouth to tell her to leave, politely or rudely, he didn't really care. He just wanted her out of his quarters, possibly his life, at least for a while. He had thought that by seeing her again it would clear things up for him; instead, it had only made his emotional waters more muddy.

Then the comm went, interrupting his thoughts and smashing his courage from under his feet. A small matter, something that the technicians could have easily dealt with, but which needed his authorisation. The joys of being in charge.

The interruption had also sapped Catherine's resolve and suddenly the room was too small. “I don't know what I'm doing here.” She stumbled across the room, her only thought on fleeing, but he caught her wrist, holding her in place. She wanted to slap him but restrained herself. “Don't touch me unless you mean it,” she snapped.

Sinclair took hold of her other arm. Now he didn't know if he meant it or not, didn't know what he wanted at all; the one thing he knew for certain was that he didn't want to see her hurt. And then, with her close proximity and the atmosphere charged with angry tension, he felt an overwhelming lust for someone who he had always been attracted to, and pushing Ivanova far from his mind, he kissed Catherine.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair lay awake staring at the ceiling some time later, he wasn't sure exactly when. Catherine was sleeping next to him, curled into his side, his arm around her, yet he still felt a great distance between them. The sex – he couldn't think of it as 'love-making' at all – had been almost rough and urgent, and though he had tried to concentrate on the woman he was with, the one he wanted kept appearing in his mind's eye. He wasn't sure how he managed to not shout Ivanova's name; extreme willpower, perhaps. And though he should have been sleeping, or at the very least resting as he would be up again in a few hours for his shift, he couldn't relax. Catherine had said nothing of starting something up between them, of this being a more permanent thing, and Sinclair found himself hoping that was true. He hoped in the morning, he could offer her coffee, she could politely refuse, and they would go their separate ways. He tried not to feel guilty about how cold-blooded that made him sound.

Yet he also couldn't help but wonder if he was deliberately ignoring some signs. Perhaps he shouldn't be so quick to throw away another chance with Catherine; perhaps they just needed a little time to re-find their balance. A future with Ivanova was completely out of the question, so why did he keep thinking it was possible?

Catherine stirred in her sleep and Sinclair forced himself to tighten his hold on her. It wasn't that he didn't care for her; they had history, he couldn't forget that. And she was a spirited woman he admired. But he didn't love her; he soul kept telling him he _couldn't_. Not any more. And he couldn't understand why.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“So...,” Catherine said as they walked towards the docking bay.

“So,” Sinclair replied, his hands thrust deep in his pockets.

She sighed. “What do we do now, Jeff?”

He frowned. “I thought...you said it was just one night.”

“That was last night. This morning...couldn't it be something more?”

Sinclair was silent as he thought. _'Could it?'_ “I don't know,” he replied honestly.

Catherine glanced sideways to look at him as they walked. “Do you want it be something more?”

“How long's this run?” he asked.

“Just a couple of days. I'll be back by Wednesday.”

“Let's talk about it when you get back then.”

“Jeff....”

“Catherine, it's....” Sinclair stopped. “It feels different this time. Let's take it slowly.”

“You're right, it does feel different.” She pursed her lips, then nodded. “Alright, let's talk about it when I get back on Wednesday.” She thought about kissing him, then decided against it and started to walk away before turning back to him. “Jeff, don't mess me about.”

He wanted to promise he wouldn't, but couldn't. “I'll try not to.”

Catherine sighed. At least it was an honest answer. Then they saw G'Kar and Na'toth walking by, laughing loudly with one another, and she was reminded of something. “What are you going to do for the Earth ceremony?” she asked curiously.

Sinclair smiled wryly and rolled his eyes. “I have no idea. I don't know how I'll top the Minbari ceremony; robes, bells, little pieces of fruit....”

Catherine suddenly looked very amused. “Red fruit?” He nodded. “And was there a serious exchange of looks?”

“Yes,” he replied slowly, drawing the word out. “Delenn said it was part of the rebirth ceremony....”

Catherine laughed then. “Oh, it is. But it also doubles as a marriage ceremony. Depending on how serious anyone took it, someone got married yesterday.”

The memories of the Minbari ceremony came flooding back to him, the looks he shared with everyone flitting through his mind, but it was those he shared with Ivanova and Delenn with stood out most prominently. He wasn't sure if Catherine was serious or just teasing him, but if it was true, who did he get married to?

Catherine watched Sinclair's face as his expression changed and felt some of her good humour fade away. Things were different between them, but after last night she had hoped that they could return to their old ways. Now she doubted it. But then Sinclair's face cleared and he smiled at her.

“No wonder G'Kar is looking is so happy. Funny, I didn't think Londo was his type.”

Catherine grinned back. “See you Wednesday?”

“I'll be here.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova was aware of the tightness in her expression, was aware of the stiffness in her shoulders, but couldn't completely hide it. It was stupid to be so upset, to be so put out with someone who didn't even know what they had done to hurt her. Despite knowing a future with Sinclair wasn't possible at all, Ivanova still found herself disappointed that he had taken up with Catherine again. She had found out all about the other woman from Garibaldi, casually broaching the subject one day in the mess hall over breakfast while Sinclair was still on duty. The security chief had been a mine of information, as usual, and Ivanova listened raptly. It was funny, in a Russian sort of way, but under other circumstances, Catherine was exactly the kind of person Ivanova could have become friends with. She was stubborn, reckless, feisty, argumentative, just like Ivanova, and the almost complete opposite of Sinclair, or at least Sinclair's public face. As it was, however, Ivanova disliked Catherine simply because the other woman was free to pursue Sinclair and she was not.

Her thoughts were jerked back to the present by the ambassadors showing signs of impatience. Londo in particular was beginning to grow restless, but Delenn seemed put out with Sinclair also. Garibaldi looked like he would glad when the whole ordeal was over, something Ivanova could sympathise with, and then G'Kar announced he was leaving. Just as Sinclair arrived, beaming naturally and inviting them all to follow him. Ivanova wanted to walk away, wanted to be as far from his happiness as she could put herself. She couldn't go last in the procession because Garibaldi had already secured that position, but she did try to discreetly put some distance between Sinclair and herself by letting Delenn and G'Kar go first. She thought about letting Londo go too, but decided she would not start an intergalactic incident with having him next to G'Kar for however long this would take, and reluctantly put herself as a buffer between the Narn and Centauri. Though as much as she was unhappy with Sinclair, and unhappy with herself for letting her infatuation get so out of control, she was curious to see what he had put together.

A long line of people in various dress was not what she had in mind, and Ivanova found herself impressed with how Sinclair had handled the situation despite herself. And despite how she felt about him, she did enjoy meeting the various representatives of the various religions from Earth. Very innovative, diplomatic...yes, impressive, she decided, unaware Sinclair was watching her whenever he got the chance to gauge her reaction. He had seen her pain, but had tried not to let its reflection in his own features show. He had not wanted to see Catherine hurt, but he wanted to see Ivanova hurt even less, and he was suddenly aware that he would have to make a choice a lot sooner than he anticipated.

After they had reached the end of the line, Sinclair led them to one of the conference rooms and had each individual representative of a religion come in and speak for a few moments. It was a long process, but the ambassadors seemed to find it interesting in the very least, quite enjoyable at the most. Finally, when it was all over, Sinclair, Ivanova and Garibaldi were the only ones left.

“If I ever find out whose bright idea this was...,” Garibaldi muttered mutinously.

Sinclair nodded. “I'll help you.”

“I'll watch.”

“If you'll excuse me, Commander, I want to make sure the stragglers from the party find their way home and not into the brig.”

“Mr Garibaldi has a peculiar sense of humour,” Ivanova noted as the security chief left.

“You've noticed,” Sinclair replied dryly, turning to look at his XO. His throat constricted as he did so because for a moment, her defences were down and he had never seen such raw pain before. Then as quickly as he saw it, it was gone. “Susan, I....”

“I have a question, Commander.” Ivanova deliberately interrupted him. She didn't want to hear what he had to say; he had clearly made his choice and it wasn't her. She could understand it, and in time accept it. They still had to work together, they could still be friends. It was better than nothing.

“Yes?”

“Where did you find so many people from so many religions? I know we have people from all walks of life on the station, but....” She deliberately left the sentence hanging.

Sinclair smiled in a smug, secretive sort of way. “What you don't know can't hurt you, Lieutenant Commander.”

Ivanova glared at him. “Is there a regulation that says _I_ can't hurt _you_?”

Sinclair just laughed in response.

TBC


	8. 106 The War Prayer

_April 2258_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Dealing with having a prominent Minbari poet brutally stabbed and branded was not the way Sinclair wanted to spend his shift. Usually the night shift was an easier one, but he knew this was going to be anything but easy. As Delenn finished yelling at him and stormed out of his office, Sinclair looked at Garibaldi and idly wondered if now would be a good time to take his vacation.

“That went well,” the chief of security noted dryly.

Sinclair could only nod, then tap his link. “Sinclair to Ivanova.”

_“Ivanova here.”_

“We have a situation. I need to brief you before your shift starts.”

_“I was just on my way to the mess hall, but....”_

“That's fine,” Sinclair said, interrupting her. “I'll meet you there.”

“What do you want to do about this, Jeff?” Garibaldi asked as they headed down the corridors.

“I want it stopped, Michael,” he said in a very firm voice. “I don't care how you do it, either. I want it made clear that Babylon 5 is _not_ a breeding ground for hate.”

Garibaldi made a face. “It won't be easy. Pro Earth groups are appearing all over the place.”

Sinclair scowled. “Pro Earth....”

“I know, I know. I feel the same way.”

“I want these scum, Michael, I want them bad.”

Garibaldi shrugged. “I'll do my best, but there are too many people who agree and more who just don't give a damn.”

“Make them give a damn,” Sinclair said.

The security chief took it as an order, nodding curtly once and heading in the opposite direction. As he rounded the corner, he saw Ivanova coming towards him. “If you want the Commander, he's that way,” he told her, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

“What's the situation?” Ivanova asked him.

“Better ask the Commander. And if you hurry, you should be just in time to see him take on G'Kar...again.”

Ivanova rolled her eyes and resumed her pace. Garibaldi was the most annoying person she had ever met sometimes. As she turned the corner, she saw Sinclair's expression as he was talking to G'Kar and couldn't help rolling her eyes again. Death by Narn. It was one way to go. She couldn't hear what was being said, but Sinclair concluded the discussion by walking away rather sharply. Circling round a group of people to avoid being caught by G'Kar, Ivanova strode after Sinclair, catching up with him just before he reached the transport tube.

“Commander,” she greeted him.

Despite the tenseness of the situation, Sinclair smiled as soon as he heard and saw his second-in-command. “Lieutenant Commander. Have you eaten yet?”

It took her a moment to process the question. “No, I thought....”

His frown cut her off. “I can't have my EO skipping meals. Come on, I'll fill you in on the way to the mess hall.”

Ivanova almost scowled, feeling his concern was misplaced at this time, given the current situation, whatever it was, and the reappearance of Catherine. Then she caught herself; she couldn't begrudge him a chance at happiness. How many hours had she spent thinking over her choices regarding her feelings for Sinclair? How many times had she tried to make it work? Tried to convince herself it wasn't possible? That she was fooling herself? She sighed inwardly; the Commander had clearly made a choice, it was time for her to make hers.

Sinclair was watching her closely, unaware of the thoughts going through her head but keenly aware of a subtle change. “Lieutenant Commander?”

Ivanova brought herself back to the present and turned, her eyes locking with his. Once again he was struck with a sense of losing her. “Yes, Commander?” she replied, as unfazed as always.

“I thought I lost you for a moment there.”

There was something underlying that innocent statement, but Ivanova forced herself to ignore it. “I was just thinking I could have used a second cup of coffee,” she conceded. “And that skipping breakfast is not a good idea.”

He nodded in understanding, though he suspected it was more than that. “Shaal Mayan was attacked.”

Ivanova stared at him, her eyebrows raised. “Is it serious?”

“She was stabbed and branded. But it wasn't fatal.”

 _“Branded?!”_ Ivanova exclaimed indignantly.

Sinclair nodded sombrely, and filled her in on the rest of the details as they walked down the corridor. As they turned into the mess hall, his link beeped and he stopped. “Sinclair.”

 _“I need to see you when you've got a minute, Commander,”_ Garibaldi said.

He sighed. “On my way.” He looked apologetically at Ivanova. “Enjoy your breakfast, Lieutenant Commander. I'll see you in C&C later.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Having a couple of detainees arrive unannounced was the last thing Ivanova needed, and she had hoped that Garibaldi would take the bait and let her inform the Commander about collecting them. That way she could get one up on both Sinclair and Garibaldi. But instead, the security chief had called her on her illegal coffee plantar, and trying hard not to be amused at the way he handled the situation, she wandered down to the docking bay to see just what all the fuss was about. As she walked, she thought about her time on the station so far. Despite her initial misgivings about Garibaldi, he had slowly, subtly won her over, proving to be an amusing and solid colleague, definitely someone she could call friend in the future. Franklin's enthusiasm still surprised her, and grated a little on her nerves at times, but he was sincere and steadfast, and she knew in a tough situation, he would be more focussed than the rest of them. And Sinclair...well, she tried not to think about him.

The 'detainees' turned out to be two young Centauri who demanded to see Ambassador Cotto. Trying to hide her amusement, and wishing she could see the look on Londo's face when Vir explained what there was to explain, she ordered them taken to the Commander's office, while lifting her link to inform him.

“Susan?”

Ivanova froze at the voice, one she hadn't heard in a long time and one which threatened to bring a complication she really didn't need. Dropping her hand to her side, she turned, carefully placing a professional mask on her face. “Malcolm.”

Malcolm sauntered over to her, his swagger irritating her. “I'm surprised to see you here, last I heard....”

“What are you doing here?” she asked, cutting across him.

He was unperturbed. “I'm looking for something. Something I never stopped wanting.”

Ivanova's irritation grew, and part of her ire must have shown in her eyes because Malcolm took a step back. “I hope you find it,” she said stiffly. “Excuse me.”

“Same old, Susan, eh? Duty first.”

She refused to take the bait. She tossed a terse, “Yes,” over her shoulder and quickly left the docking area, counting to twenty before tapping her link. “Ivanova to Sinclair.”

_“Sinclair.”_

“You're needed in your office, sir. A couple of Centauri youths were caught stowing away on a transport, and they had stolen credit chips.”

There was a tenseness in her voice that Sinclair didn't like, but could do nothing about. _“Isn't that more a job for Mr Garibaldi?”_

“Yes, sir, but as Ambassador Cotto was involved, I thought you would like to handle it personally.”

_“Ambassador...? Oh. I see. Thank you, Lieutenant Commander.”_

As the comm link was closed, Ivanova thought about her abruptness towards Malcolm. They hadn't seen each other for eight years, when she left him to pursue her career. She had missed him, of course, but she had moved, focussing on what was most important to her: Earthforce. His comment about looking for something was obvious; he was never good at subtlety. He was trying to win her back, but why? Why now? Why here? Ivanova rolled her eyes. Some of Garibaldi's suspicious nature must have been rubbing off on her. While she wasn't exactly happy to see Malcolm, she suddenly felt like she should give him a chance. After all, they had history together, that had to count for something. And he was available, whereas Sinclair was completely out of bounds. Nodding to herself and straightening her jacket as she made her decision, Ivanova continued towards C&C in a calmer mood.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair tried to pay attention to what was going on in his office, but in truth, he wasn't interested in two Centauri who had run away from their homes. Such a problem was best dealt with internally and he did take some small pleasure in dropping the whole business in Londo's lap. It was slightly petty but it brightened his day somewhat. The attacks were causing him grave concern, but so was his second-in-command demeanour. She was sounded stressed before, as though she had just come up against a situation she wasn't expecting and didn't want to deal with, and he couldn't help but compare it with when he had seen Catherine again. Something told him their circumstances were similar, and the rage he felt over the cowardly attacks on aliens doubled with jealousy, burning white hot in his gut. Then he forced himself to calm down and think realistically. He had Catherine, why shouldn't Ivanova have someone as well? But he and Catherine had only seen each other once since that first meeting some weeks ago; she had returned to the station as she had promised, only to leave again the next day. They hadn't had the time to talk, and although Sinclair felt as though he was stringing her along, he also felt he owed it to Catherine and himself to see where this would go.

“Commander.”

Sinclair looked up to see Garibaldi stood in the doorway. “Michael.” He gestured to the chair at the other side of the desk. “What have you got?”

“Does the term 'not much' mean anything?” he replied, shrugging. “I'm trying, Jeff, but like I said, too many people just don't care. They're all wrapped up in their own lives to bother about what's going on around them.”

The senator's comment during the Ragesh III incident came back to Sinclair. _“Senator, colonists are dying out there!”_

_“Not our problem.”_

“If not our problem, then whose?” Sinclair mused out loud.

Garibaldi eyed him with mock suspicion. “Have you been talking to Ambassador Delenn again?”

Sinclair mock glared right back. “I don't think that would be a good idea, under the circumstances.”

The security chief inclined his head in acknowledgement of the point. “This isn't your fault, Jeff. I know Delenn wants to hold you responsible, but she's angry, Minbari or not. But you can't do any more than you're already doing.”

“I guess.” But that didn't stop him from feeling guilty, so he changed the subject. “Have you spoken with Ivanova yet today?”

“Yeah, not long ago. I told her about the detainees, she offered to pick them up.... Why?”

“She just seemed...distracted a little while ago, that's all.”

Garibaldi just shrugged. “She seemed fine to me. It's probably nothing, Commander. You know how Ivanova is, she's more serious about her job than you are.”

Sinclair nodded in agreement. “Keep trying, Mr Garibaldi. I want a lead, any lead will do right now.”

Garibaldi took the hint that the conversation was over and stood. “Will do.”

Sinclair watched him go but didn't really see him. His mind was elsewhere, on someone else. Ivanova's distracted state was real, and he found he couldn't just sit by and thinking about it. Checking the amount of paperwork he had to do against the time left before her shift finished, Sinclair settled down to work.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“So, you do take a break after all.”

Despite Ivanova's decision, Malcolm's voice grated on her nerves, but she forced a smile onto her face as she looked up. “My shift just ended.”

“Great. That gives us time to chat.”

Ivanova put the pad down she had been studying. “Malcolm, what are you doing here?”

“I thought I'd set up in business. I've already got premises sorted, now I just need clients and I thought maybe you could help me with that?” he asked in a hopeful tone.

She laughed in astonishment. “You're not serious.”

Malcolm smirked. “I do believe this is the first time I've ever surprised you.”

Ivanova's mind was reeling. She had thought of a relationship with Malcolm like Sinclair had with Catherine; semi-casual, someone who visited the station on a fairly regular basis but wasn't underfoot all the time. “But why Babylon 5?”

“Because you're here.” He couldn't be any clearer, and Ivanova had to remind herself that giving Malcolm a chance was a good thing. “I thought maybe we could start over....”

Too much, too quickly. “Malcolm, it's been eight years,” she told him, standing. “Let's take things slowly.”

And with that, Ivanova walked away, aware of Malcolm's eyes following her until she was out of sight, but unaware of a second burning gaze. Sinclair had missed Ivanova at the end of her shift and decided to seek her out in the Zocalo, to see if she wanted a drink and to talk, now they were both off duty. He had spotted her instantly, but then Malcolm showed up. Even from a distance, Sinclair could see the man's predatory stance and it made his hackles rise. He couldn't see Ivanova's face clearly, but he knew her well enough to read the set of her shoulders. She wasn't happy, but she was trying to be. Then the conversation was over and she left, walking close to where Sinclair was stood, but so preoccupied she missed him. He stood for a moment, debating about whether to go and talk to Malcolm or not, but eventually decided against it. Anything he said would come out wrong, and he needed to know for sure whether his dislike for the man was natural instinct or his own predatory jealousy because of Ivanova. Not liking what he saw under self-examination, Sinclair turned on his heel and strode off.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova felt as though someone had dumped a load of sand in her eyes and stuffed her head with cotton wool when she awoke the next day. She had slept very badly, plagued by dreams in which Malcolm became Sinclair and vice versa, and it was with some reluctance that she left her quarters. She never got further than the open door, as outside stood a single red rose in a container. Obviously it was for her, and making no attempt to hide her surprise, Ivanova lifted it and went back into her quarters. Slowly, savouring the moment, she slid the casing down and sniffed cautiously at the petals of the flower. The scent was almost overwhelming; it wasn't just an excellent synthetic, the rose looked like the real deal. Someone had clearly pulled out all the stops to impress her, and she idly wondered if she searched through the hydroponics garden more carefully, along with her illegal coffee plantar she would find some roses growing there. For Sinclair to make such a gesture.

Ivanova's head snapped up. What was she thinking?! Of course the flower hadn't come from the Commander, and neither was it real. It was an expensive synthetic from Malcolm, designed to bowl her over. Only he knew what a sucker she was for roses, but suddenly she found the gesture almost obscene, as though throwing a lot of money at her would win her back. But that had always been Malcolm's style, and taking a deep, calming breath, Ivanova placed the rose in a vase on her table, throwing the container in the trash. She finished doing up her jacket, tugged it into place, and once more left for her shift.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

They had been chatting for a while on the command deck, but it was obvious to Ivanova that Sinclair was distracted, and from what she had learnt of him already, it was work related and nothing to do with Catherine. For some reason, that made her smile, and once her good mood had been completely restored, her innate curiosity won out.

“Something, Commander?”

Sinclair looked at her, gauging how much to say and deciding quickly it could be everything. “Where you briefed on what happened when Ambassador Kosh arrived on the station?”

Ivanova's expression became serious and her whole body alert. “Only that a radical sect within the Minbari military caste tried to assassinate him, but nothing more than that.”

He nodded, then gestured his head over to his console, inviting her to come and sit down with him. “Were you informed of my involvement in the situation?”

Ivanova looked startled. “No.”

“The Minbari had a changeling net, and they used that to impersonate me,” Sinclair explained in a quiet voice. “Kosh was poisoned through the hand and almost died. It was only the combined efforts of our first telepath, Lyta Alexander, and our first chief medical officer, Ben Kyle, that he was saved. Lyta is the only telepath to have scanned a Vorlon, and Ben was the only person to even see Kosh outside of his encounter suit; not long after everything was cleared up, they were both reassigned suddenly. And not long after that, my first EO, Laurel Takashima, was also recalled back to Earth.”

“So you lost your first officer, chief medical officer, and resident telepath in a matter of weeks?” Ivanova asked. She had pieced together most of what had happened, but mainly by listening to people gossiping, not through the official channels.

Sinclair nodded. “There was one thing about the whole situation I could never quite figure out, though.”

“What's that?”

“Kosh wears an encounter suit, supposedly to protect him from our atmosphere,” Sinclair explained. “If that's true, then how did the poison enter through his hand?”

“How do you know it was his hand?” Ivanova asked.

“When Lyta scanned him, she saw who she thought was me shaking hands with Kosh and putting a patch on the back of his hand.”

“But it was the Minbari with the changeling net.” Ivanova nodded in understanding, then smiled. “The Vorlons are a mystery, Commander. Who knows how much that suit is really necessary and how much it's just...camouflage to stop us from seeing what's inside.”

“The two people who do know aren't telling,” Sinclair replied.

“If you don't mind me asking, sir, where are you going with this? Do you think there's some sort of connection with these attacks?”

He smiled at her then, the first one she had seen on his face since he arrived on the command deck. “No, it's just I was talking with Kosh earlier and I remembered that. I'd still like to know how the poison was administered, that was all. I don't like unanswered problems.”

“That is something we share, Commander,” Ivanova said. “Maybe the answer will present itself in time.”

“That's the problem, Lieutenant Commander. I'm not sure I want it to.” Sinclair sighed. “I have the feeling that the answer, if and when it does arrive, will be too much for us to handle.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” She looked around the command deck. “Any word on who's responsible for the attacks?”

“Garibaldi had a suspect but had to let him go,” Sinclair replied. “We know it's Homeguard, we just don't know where they're hiding.”

His tone of voice made Ivanova look at him sharply; his dark eyes were almost black with anger. “You really don't like this sort of thing, Commander, do you?” Ivanova said in a soft voice. It seemed a pointless thing to say, really, but it did the trick and dampened his fury somewhat.

“I don't like bullies or cowards,” he replied. “We've worked too hard establishing Babylon 5 as neutral territory and I'm not about to let anyone destroy that hard work.”

Ivanova saw a technician catch her eye and she nodded. As she stood, she laid a hand briefly on Sinclair's arm. “Don't worry, I won't let it happen either.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Despite trying her hardest, the meal Ivanova shared with Malcolm was uncomfortable, for her at least. Malcolm seemed somewhat oblivious and that confused her. While he had never been particularly good at reading other peoples' feelings, he had seemed quite attuned to hers, but maybe they had both changed more than they realised in eight years and needed time to readjust.

“Am I boring you?” Malcolm asked in a somewhat deceptively calm voice.

Ivanova forced a smile. “Of course not.”

“Were you thinking about work?”

“In a manner of speaking,” she replied. It was the truth, but she wasn't about to voice what she was actually thinking about. During the course of the evening, Malcolm had been replaced by Sinclair; Ivanova was curious as to what it would be like to sit with him and have dinner, and she wondered if it would ever be possible. Instead, she said, “I was just running through what duties I have to do on my next shift.”

Malcolm seemed to consider that for a moment, maybe trying to find a hole in what she had said, but if he found one, he didn't pursue it. “You know, letting you go was the hardest thing I ever did. I didn't want to, either.”

She smiled genuinely at him. “For me it was one of the best moves I ever made. Opened a lot of doors for me.”

“Your career is very important to you, isn't it?”

“Yes.”

“Is there someone else?”

The question came out of nowhere, and Ivanova bristled instantly, realising too late that Malcolm had wanted such a reaction from her. “Even if there was, it's none of your business,” she said, forcing her voice to remain calm. “You should have known the risk you were taking coming here; you just assumed I'd still be interested.”

Malcolm held his hands up in surrender. “I'm sorry, it's just you seem like you don't want me around.”

“It's been eight years, Malcolm.”

“Yes, you've said that already. But does time really mean anything for people like us? With a connection like ours?”

He was charming her, just like she remembered, and with a smile, she let him. “It was still a risk.”

“I enjoy taking risks.”

There was something in the way he said it but Ivanova couldn't put her finger on it. Instead, she changed the subject. “So, what have you been doing for the last eight years?”

Malcolm took a deep breath and sat back in his chair. “Well....”

The rest of the evening passed more smoothly and after the meal, Ivanova allowed Malcolm to escort her back to her quarters, his hand finding its way easily into hers as they walked. But when they reached her door, Ivanova pulled away from him and turned. “Thank you for dinner, but it's late and I have an early shift tomorrow.”

Malcolm didn't even try to hide his disappointment. “The night is still young, Susan. I was hoping....”

“Malcolm, I don't know....”

As her eyes connected with his, he must have seen her indecision, but there also must have been a spark of encouragement because he slowly lowered his head and Ivanova didn't pull away. As his lips met hers, she pulled him into her quarters, which he took as encouragement when in reality it was to save her any embarrassment of being spotted. She was the second-in-command, after all, and had an image to maintain.

The moment, however, was shattered by the comm beeping, alerting Ivanova to an incoming call, and without thinking, she just pulled away. Malcolm's eyebrows shot up. “That's not very flattering.”

Ivanova smoothed her dress. “It's duty,” she told him firmly, her mind already moving away from the kiss and onto wondering who was calling. “Receive.”

 _“Sorry to disturb you, Lieutenant Commander, but there's been a near riot in central,”_ Sinclair said as soon as his face appeared. _“I need you in my office ASAP.”_

“I'm on my way,” Ivanova told him, ending the communication. She turned and walked into her bedroom, seemingly oblivious to Malcolm's presence.

“So, is that it? Evening over?” he asked.

“Yes.”

It wasn't the reply he was hoping for but he saw little choice but to accept it. “Why would people on the station be rioting?”

Ivanova turned, as if suddenly realising he was still there, and pointed to the door. “Malcolm, out!” It was firm and commanding, yet not harsh, but she wanted to be alone.

“I'll catch you on your next break, then,” he replied, waving before leaving.

Ivanova paused as she changed. There hadn't been a spark of attraction between them when Malcolm kissed her, or at least none she could feel. And then when she saw Sinclair's face...every pretence she had made about not caring for him went straight out of the nearest airlock. By even thinking of encouraging Malcolm, Ivanova felt like she was cheating on the Commander, as ridiculous as it sounded. Yet she wondered if he felt the same when he was with Catherine; she wondered if he knew how she hid the pain. True, the other woman had only been on board the station a couple of times, but that was still enough for Ivanova to feel like her heart was being broken in two. And although a very small part of her would have been happy for Sinclair to feel the same pain after seeing her with Malcolm, she truly hoped he hadn't noticed.

Sat in his office, his jaw and fists clenched tightly, Sinclair was feeling pain and a murderous rage. He had seen Malcolm with Ivanova, had seen how he stood so close to her, saw how beautiful she was, the effort she had clearly put in to impress another man. He couldn't blame her really; after all, as far as he knew she was completely unaware of his feelings for her. But there was still something about Malcolm that he didn't like, though he couldn't put a finger on what it was. Realising the amount of anger he was showing, Sinclair closed his eyes, forced his hands to unclench and took several deep, calming breaths. It was none of his business who Ivanova spent time with, though if Malcolm hurt her, that was an entirely different story.

He opened his eyes just before Garibaldi walked into his office, and he must have looked in control as the security chief just launched straight into an update of the situation. “We've calmed everything down, for now, but it could get ugly again real quick out there.”

Sinclair sighed. “Still no leads?”

Garibaldi shook his head, looking extremely frustrated. “I've been talking with some people back on Earth and Mars, and it seems like they're having the same trouble, which makes me feel a little better.”

“This situation is going to spin right out of control if we're not careful.”

“Tell me about it.”

Rapid footsteps announced the approach of Ivanova and when she came to a stop in the doorway of his office, Sinclair could only stare. Her hair was down, hanging in loose waves which framed her face perfectly, and her jacket was only partly done up. She must have changed in a great hurry and he couldn't help but smile at her dedication to her job. For some reason, it made him feel much better about Malcolm's involvement in her life.

As he came back to his senses, he was glad and amused to see Garibaldi was as equally as distracted by Ivanova as he had been; the last thing he wanted or needed was for his old friend to start questioning him over his preoccupation with his second-in-command. He had a strange feeling that inquiry would begin sooner rather than later.

“Liking you look,” Garibaldi said in friendly appreciation.

Ivanova just glared at him. “Considering the situation, Mr Garibaldi, I would have thought you would have more important things on your mind than the way I look.”

“Ivanova, no one in their right mind would have more important things to think about than you looking like that.” He smiled in the most harmless way he could, and Sinclair waited for the inevitable backlash from his second-in-command.

It never came. Instead, she just sighed in exasperation, rolled her eyes quite deliberately at him, then turned to Sinclair. “Commander.”

Sinclair smiled. “Let's begin,” he said, all business again, thoughts of personal attachments far from his mind.

But Ivanova had seen him appraising her appearance, had noted the satisfaction he had shown from the way she looked, and it pleased her. Despite Malcolm's reappearance in her life and Catherine's reappearance in Sinclair, it seemed destiny had its own ideas about who belonged with whom.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Just got your message. What is it?” Sinclair asked as he walked into the security office.

“My pal Roberts just got a visitor,” Garibaldi said in a slightly smug voice. “I think you'll want to see this, Commander. I'd say we've almost caught ourselves a big fish.”

As soon as the man walked into the frame on the recording, Sinclair drew in a sharp breath. “I know that man. He was with Ivanova last night,” he said through gritted teeth.

Garibaldi looked at his friend in surprise. “You don't think Ivanova....” The glare Sinclair gave him made him gulp and back down. “You're right, what was I thinking? This is Ivanova.” He sighed. “We're going to have to tell her.”

“I know.” The reply came out as a growl, and Sinclair raised his hand to his mouth. “C&C, this is Commander Sinclair. Have Lieutenant Commander Ivanova report to her quarters immediately.” He didn't wait for a reply. “Let's go, Michael.”

When they reached Ivanova's quarters, she answered the door chimes with a very terse, “Yes?”

“My apologies for the urgent summons, Lieutenant Commander, but there's something you need to see and I thought it best we keep it completely private,” Sinclair said, the tightness in his jaw transferring itself to his voice.

Ivanova took it all in - the way he stood, the formality of his words – and her blood ran cold before she knew what was going on. Wordlessly, Garibaldi put a data crystal into the port and a recording started to play. She watched as Malcolm tried to recruit Roberts into the Homeguard and suddenly she felt sick.

“I never would have thought...,” she said afterwards, trailing off and shaking her head. “I mean, it's been eight years, but still....”

“A man can change a lot in eight years, there's no way you could have known,” Garibaldi told her sympathetically.

Ivanova acknowledged his words with the barest of nods before squaring her shoulders and looking Sinclair right in the eye, seeing the same amount of mercy for these people as she would probably see in her own expression. “What do you want me to do, sir?”

“There's a reception tonight. That would be a good time to make contact. Introduce me. Tell him I'm not happy with all the aliens running around the station.” Sinclair grimaced, his jaw clenching even tighter. “People like him always like to recruit friends in high places.”

Ivanova stared at a spot over his shoulder for a long moment. Sinclair was aware of Garibaldi's questioning stare beside him, but he kept his gaze on his second-in-command. Finally, her eyes met his and she nodded. “Alright. But on one condition.”

Sinclair was so proud of her in that moment, of the strength she was showing, he felt he would burst and when he spoke, he was surprised to find his voice was thick with emotion. “Name it.”

“I want to be there when you take him down. I want in as well. Every step of the way.”

He didn't even hesitate before nodding. “Alright.” Then he paused, looking as though he wanted to say something else, looking as if he wanted to stay and comfort her, but instead he just turned abruptly, Garibaldi at his heels.

“Jeff, I know Ivanova's tough, but I really don't think it's a good idea to put her in this situation,” the security chief said as soon as they left her quarters.

“I gave her my word, Michael. Besides, Biggs will swallow the bait whole if she's there. If she isn't present....” Sinclair trailed off. “It's just easier this way.”

“I know, I know. I just don't like it.”

“Don't worry, I'll look after her.”

“Yeah, but who's going to look after you?”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair tugged again at his dress uniform, not relishing the task ahead of him. It wasn't that he doubted he could pull it off, either; it was the fact he would have to tap into a part of him he had tried very hard to forget about since the war. Taking a deep breath, he pressed the chimes and hoped no one else was inside. After a few moments, his call was acknowledged warily and he sighed with relief.

“It's me.”

Another hesitation and then the door swung open. Ivanova stood in the middle of the room, her back ramrod straight, her hands clasped behind her back. “Commander,” she said stiffly, though with a hint of curiosity as to why he was there. “Malcolm could be here any minute....”

Sinclair nodded, and unsure what to do with himself, shoved his hands into his pockets. “I know, I just.... I wanted to see you before the reception, to make sure you still wanted to go through with this and that you weren't suffering any doubts or misgivings....”

“Are you questioning my loyalty, sir?” Ivanova asked heatedly.

He sighed, not wanting to agitate her. He wanted her as relaxed and as natural as possible if they were going to pull this little stunt off. “Of course not. You're one of the best officers I've ever served with.” He pulled a face. “In fact, I can see you making Captain before me.”

Hi stone was bitter and resentful, and Ivanova couldn't really blame him. She had often wondered how a Commander ended up in charge of a high profile job like Babylon 5. Not that she minded of even cared; after all, it allowed her to be here...near Sinclair. “I'm sorry, Commander,” she said quietly. “It's just this whole business.... Makes me sick.”

“Me too. And I know you said you wanted to see this through, but if you want to back out, I'll understand.”

But Ivanova shook her head vehemently. “No, sir. I want to see this through. I have to.”

Sinclair nodded, understanding her perfectly. “I won't ask if you're alright, because I'd be very surprised if you said anything other than 'no'. But as long as you're still committed to going through with this....”

“I am, sir, yes.”

“I'll be with you every step of the way.”

It was another of those moments, another of those occurrences of dejá vù which struck both of them at odd moments. It made the room contract, the station disappear, until nothing else existed but the two of them. But like every incident before, it was broken before the connection could be explored fully.

“You had better go, Commander,” Ivanova said. “If Malcolm finds you here....”

“I'm going.” Sinclair was about to turn when he noticed the rose in the trash. Schooling his features into an expression of neutrality, he bent and picked it up, handing it back to her. “If Malcolm sees this here, he'll know something's wrong.”

Ivanova clenched her jaw, but didn't make a move to take the rose.

“From me to you,” Sinclair suggested.

“You shouldn't, Commander. People will talk.” There was a lightness in her voice he appreciated.

“As a token of friendship, Lieutenant Commander,” he replied, though his eyes spoke volumes more. “After all, none of this is the rose's fault.”

Ivanova smiled slightly. “You're right.” She finally took the flower from him, their fingers brushing as she did so. “Thank you.”

Sinclair just nodded, not trusting himself to speak for a moment. When he did, his voice was deeper than normal. “See you at the reception.”

After he had left, Ivanova was aware something strange had just taken place. She just wasn't entirely sure what it was.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

There was an excuse for watching Sinclair so closely this time and Ivanova was making the most of the opportunity without alerting Malcolm to her true intentions. She assumed an air of disinterest, coldness, which given her reputation wasn't hard to pull off. Or at least so she thought. But from Sinclair's position at the other side of the room, he could see just how uncomfortable she was with the situation and once again wondered if Garibaldi had been right about keeping her out of it. And it both angered and amused him how oblivious Malcolm was to Ivanova tense state; such a man should not be allowed to stand beside such a woman, even without his dubious political affiliations. It also amused Sinclair that despite Ivanova's obvious scrutiny of him – he was certain she thought she was being discreet and to anyone else she may have been – she seemed completely unaware of him observing her.

Ivanova sipped unenthusiastically at her drink, covertly watching Malcolm as he looked down his noses at the other aliens in the room. His haughtiness made her shiver; she had come so close to making one of the biggest mistakes of her life. She was distracted from that train of thought by Delenn approaching Sinclair with the Abayii ambassador and she watched with interest as he was dismissive of her concerns over the safety of her delegates and almost rude when answering her questions about the hydroponics garden. When he walked away from them, Ivanova saw Delenn watching him incredulously. No doubt she was extremely perturbed about his behaviour, but there was something else in her expression, some deep seated disappointment that seemed to go far beyond the superficial.

“They're nervous,” Sinclair said in a smug voice.

“Why?” Malcolm asked, feigning mild interest. Ivanova noticed that he was between herself and the Commander, a conscious choice on Sinclair's part.

“All the recent attacks on aliens,” Ivanova replied.

Sinclair sneered. “Let them be nervous.” He gulped his drink as though it, or the diplomatic function, were distasteful. “Just because it says 'diplomat' in the job description doesn't mean I have to like it.”

Ivanova had to remind herself to breath. He was too convincing; even Garibaldi would have had a hard time deciding if his old friend was acting or not, but Malcolm seemed to swallow it hook, line and sinker. After a while, Sinclair circled around the room again, although no one spoke to him this time.

“I thought Commander Sinclair was sympathetic towards aliens,” Malcolm said to Ivanova quietly.

“On the surface. Like he said, he has to play diplomat, it's part of his job. It doesn't mean he has to like it.”

Malcolm nodded in understanding. “I'd like to talk to him, if possible. Privately.”

“I'm sure I could arrange that,” Ivanova replied.

After another half an hour, Sinclair walked past them, his face taut with disdain. “I've had enough of this.” His drained his glass and set it heavily on the table, then looked at Ivanova. “If anyone asks, you know what to do, Lieutenant Commander.”

“Of course, sir.” Ivanova nodded, as though covering for him in such a way was a regular occurrence for her. She waited until he was out of sight, then pressed a button on her link, faked a communication, and took hold of Malcolm's arm, leading him out of the reception. Sinclair was strolling down a corridor alone when they caught up with him.

“Problem, Lieutenant Commander?” he asked, frowning.

“I just wondered if you would join us for a drink, Commander.” She glanced at Malcolm, who nodded. “Malcolm would like to talk to you.”

Sinclair looked at the other man and smiled jovially. “Sure. Beats staying in there.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the reception. “Your quarters, Lieutenant Commander?”

Ivanova nodded and silently led the way. She didn't trust herself to speak, just followed Sinclair's lead closely. She knew when he would need her to back him up and once he started talking, she knew when she should join in. But she wasn't confident enough to take the initiative, not on something as big as this, and she knew as well that her personal feelings for Malcolm could easily interfere with her judgement. It had tested every ounce of her willpower to keep the white hot anger she was feeling in check, to allow Malcolm to kiss her when he met her at her quarters earlier to escort her to the reception, to pretend she agreed with him. When they reached her door, Ivanova keyed in her access code, then stood to one side to allow the two men in first. Malcolm didn't hesitate before crossing the threshold, but Sinclair did, forcing her to look at him. He smiled briefly and winked, a question in his eyes. She nodded in return, sure he could see her doubts but not caring. He smiled again and gestured for her to go first, and as she did, she felt his hand come to rest gently in the small of back, and she drew strength from that brief contact.

Once inside, Sinclair quickly undid his dress jacket and loosened the top buttons on his shirt as he fixed them all a drink, hoping Malcolm would take the way he moved around Ivanova's quarters with ease as arrogance rather than anything else. He settled into the armchair, letting Malcolm sit next to Ivanova on the couch, and started talking about the war. It wasn't hard for him; everything he said was true. At the time, he had hated the Minbari, and for years afterwards. The start of the war had been caused through a simple misunderstanding, but Sinclair never thought it warranted the near extermination of the human race. They should have lost, and yet they won because the Minbari surrendered at the last minute. He was essentially a peaceful man, in his soul, but he was still a soldier and a warrior through and through, and the victory, such as it was, tasted like ashes for a long time after the war had ended.

As Ivanova listened to Sinclair, she was shocked by the sincerity in his tone; the hatred of the Minbari, the anger over losing so many close friends and colleagues, the bitterness he was showing was all real, and it was almost overwhelming. It was like someone had burst a dam and everything he had kept bottled up came pouring out. Beside her, Ivanova could feel Malcolm soaking it all up, relishing in the negativity, and it made her sick to her stomach. But it wasn't him she was concerned with; it was Sinclair. Though he seemed in control, Ivanova felt she knew better; she saw him on the edge of a precipice with nothing but darkness below him and nothing to hold him back from falling into it.

There was a lull in the conversation and Malcolm suddenly stood up and walked to the kitchen area. Ivanova looked at Sinclair and raised her eyebrows in alarm, but he just held her gaze and willed her to stay calm. In that moment, he saw her concern for him, saw his darkness reflected in her eyes, saw his own destruction and his salvation.

“I'd like you to meet them. Let my friends become your friends,” Malcolm was saying.

Sinclair smiled and stood. “I'd like that.”

Ivanova stood as well. “Me too.”

Malcolm grinned broadly, unaware of how he was trapping himself. “Excellent. I'll set up a meeting.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair was in Garibaldi's office when Ivanova contacted him. “Malcolm has given me the time and place for the meeting,” she said, repeating what he had told her.

“Good. I'll meet you at your quarters.” The Commander turned to Garibaldi. “I want a full tactical team in place ready to move as soon as I give the signal.”

But the security chief was frowning. “What was that about?”

“What do you mean?”

“Ivanova. She was...reluctant.” He took a deep breath. “Look, Commander, I know you said Ivanova is trustworthy, but it seems to me like she's having second thoughts about the whole idea.”

Sinclair shook his head. “It isn't that.” He had a good idea what the problem was, but for some reason felt reluctant to share those thoughts with his old friend.

Garibaldi, however, wasn't deterred that easily. “Then what is it? Look, as chief of security, I need to know who the bad guys are and who the good guys are. If there's some confusion....”

“There's no confusion, Michael,” Sinclair said firmly, hoping he would drop the subject.

He didn't. “Then what is it, Jeff? Look...we've been friends a long time, and I know you're my commanding officer now, but that shouldn't negate our friendship.” He held Sinclair's gaze. “I know you care about Ivanova, I've seen the way you watch her, and she watches you too. I don't have a problem with that. I just hope your feelings aren't clouding your judgement.”

It was an even bet whether Sinclair would break Garibaldi's nose, or his neck, or call an end to their friendship. The air crackled with tension, and the security chief had to keep his jaw clenched in order to stop himself from apologising. He didn't want to hurt or anger Sinclair, especially not with what was about to occur, but he felt he had to say something. But as the silence dragged on, he knew he had to say something more.

“Look, Jeff, I'm sorry. I'm just looking out for you, and Ivanova. I know you know what you're doing, but sometimes, even the best of us need reminding about stuff.”

Slowly, inch by inch, Sinclair relaxed. “I appreciate your concern, Michael, but this time you're wrong. My feelings for Ivanova are purely professional. I think she has the makings of an excellent officer, with a promising career ahead of her, and I want to make sure she doesn't jeopardise that future in any way.”

Garibaldi nodded. “But that still doesn't explain the cold shoulder routine she just gave you.”

Sinclair sighed and turned away. “In order to convince Malcolm I was on his side, I had to drag up some pretty bad memories of the war, feelings I thought I'd buried for good. I told him that on the Line, the only good alien was a dead alien. I told him the victory tasted like ashes...I told him a lot of things, and the worst part was it was all the truth.”

“And Ivanova picked up on that.” Garibaldi surmised. “Are you going to talk to her about it, when this is all over?”

“I don't know.”

“Mind a piece of advice? I'd do it. I'd talk to her and explain it all. Look, I've seen the two of you in action; the more you can trust each other, the better it'll be for this station when you have to make tough decisions.”

“Maybe you're right, it's just....”

“It's hard enough admitting the truth to yourself let alone someone else,” Garibaldi said, like he understood how Sinclair felt, and he probably did. “You want to try it on me first?”

Sinclair smiled. “No, thanks. Besides, you already know it all.”

Garibaldi smiled at the double meaning. “Yes, I do.” Then he glanced at a display. “You'd better go, Commander. We'll be monitoring you from here. Either when you give me a sign, or if they jam us somehow, we'll be there.”

There was nothing else the Commander could or wanted to say, so he just turned on his heel and left.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Despite Sinclair's convincing performance in Ivanova's quarters the previous night, she could sense his reluctance about keeping up the act in the cargo bay and she felt relieved. He had shown a dark side of him, one she wasn't expecting to see, and she was having difficulty reconciling it with the man she had come to know and admire. When Malcolm brought the Abayyi ambassador out and then hit her, Ivanova could feel the waves of anger and indignation emanating from Sinclair, feelings she herself would show if she could. A momentary flicker of doubt passed through her when Malcolm handed the Commander a PPG, but then one of the others announced Garibaldi's impending presence, and what happened next erased all uncertainty from Ivanova's mind. Sinclair took full advantage of Malcolm's momentary distraction by punching him as hard as possible in the face. Malcolm reeled, flying backwards into a stack of crates and falling motionless to the floor. Sinclair didn't hesitate; no sooner had he pulled his arm back than he was in motion, his arm going instinctively and protectively around Ivanova as he herded her to the safety of some crates. She got to see something else for the first time as well; his marksmanship was excellent as he disabled two of the Homeguard in less than half a minute, all the time making sure she was protected. But he couldn't watch his own back, and when a third person tried to creep up on him, Ivanova took a leaf out of Sinclair's book and punched them, taking great satisfaction as their head snapped back and they sagged to the floor unconscious. As she grabbed their PPG, she heard Sinclair fire again, which technically meant they had disabled them all.

As Sinclair stood cautiously and scanned the area, his arms dropped to his sides. Malcolm, having regained consciousness, took the opportunity to level his PPG at the Commander. He might go down for his actions, but he was going to take that bastard with him.

“I wouldn't. Give me a reason and your dead.”

As Malcolm stared in disbelief at Ivanova, weighing up whether she would actually shoot him or not, Garibaldi came bursting into the cargo bay in full tactical gear, several of his officers behind him. He took in the scene with a single look; Malcolm was armed with a PPG but acting indecisively while Ivanova stood pointing a PPG at him with an expression that spoke violent volumes. The other three assailants were out of action, and Sinclair was just lowering a PPG, looking quite pleased with the outcome.

“Just in time, Garibaldi,” he said in welcome. “The Abayii ambassador is back there.” He pointed to a stack of crates. “Please take her to med lab and have Dr Franklin check her over, then provide her an escort to her quarters. I'll see her afterwards to clear up any misunderstandings.”

“Will do. And them?” Garibaldi asked, gesturing disdainfully to Malcolm and his goons.

Sinclair scowled. “Brig. However you like.”

Garibaldi nodded once and went to get Malcolm. He glanced at Ivanova a couple of times, but understood the look on her face and didn't try to talk to her. He also saw the look the Commander was giving her and decided privacy was best for the both of them. “Alright, people, let's get this scum out of here.” He grabbed Malcolm's arm roughly. “After you.” The cargo bay emptied quickly, leaving only the two Earthforce officers.

“Are you alright?” Sinclair asked, coming to stand right next to Ivanova.

For once, she didn't notice the invasion of her personal space. Instead she just nodded, then forced herself to look up at him. He was smiling at her, his face glowing with pride...and love, in all its forms. He lifted a hand and rested it on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. Suddenly Ivanova was aware of just how close Sinclair was; she felt like she could hear his heart beating next to her, and with no effort at all, no concern over her lack of restraint, or any stupid regulations, she leaned slightly to the side, her head coming into contact quickly with his chest. He was solid and warm and she sensed a strength and a presence she just could not put a name to. He never moved, never tried to put his arms around her, though he wanted to, so much so that restraining himself was almost physically painful, just kept his hand on her shoulder. Neither was aware how long they stayed like that, all that mattered was that they were alone and together.

“Thank you for saving my life, Susan,” Sinclair said eventually, and Ivanova was startled by just how much his voice rumbled. “I owe you one.”

“You're welcome and I know.” She moved, somewhat reluctantly, but only because she wanted to look at him as she said the next words. “That's the only reason I did it.”

Sinclair tried to mock glare at her, tried not to laugh or even smile, and somehow ended up doing all three together. It had a positive effect, though; some of the tension left Ivanova and she grinned back, albeit briefly. “Come on, let's get out of here.”

They walked off, but not very far away from each other, and as they reached the door Sinclair let Ivanova go first again, his hand coming to rest very naturally in the small of her back once more, like it was meant to be there.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

The atmosphere in the docking bay was charged with tension from all parties, which, Ivanova thought, accounted for the grim and extremely stressful expression on Sinclair's face. Shaal Mayan, Delenn and G'Kar were present to see the deportation of the prisoners, as was Ivanova, Garibaldi had brought them down, and Sinclair was signing off the transportation of them. Malcolm and his fellow hate-mongers looked as though they had been let down by the station's personnel and society in general; they acted as though they had simply been caught with their hands in the cookie jar, rather than attempting to steal the whole kitchen. The sheer audacity – or stupidity, she couldn't decide – baffled and scared Ivanova. They actually thought they were doing the right thing; there was no cure for hatred like that. Garibaldi looked as though he was wishing for one of them to try and escape so he could shoot them. G'Kar was pleased that justice had been served, but there was a surprising lack of violence in his stance and expression, which did give Ivanova some bit of hope. Shaal Mayan seemed to pity them, and Delenn...Delenn seemed ashamed, something Ivanova did not associate with her or any Minbari for that matter.

She tried to avoid looking at Sinclair. He was furious, she could tell, and so could everyone else in the docking bay. The glares he gave the Homeguard were lethal, as though he were trying to will them out of existence, but the look he gave Malcolm was nothing short of pure venom, as if he had absorbed all of the Homeguard's hatred and was pouring it back into one man. Once the paperwork was finished, Sinclair strode from the bay, not looking at anyone. Ivanova didn't even try to catch his eye, but she saw Delenn attempt it. No doubt there would be some apologising going on between the two of them later. Then Malcolm shouted at her, tried to taunt her, and instead of making her angry, she found she shared Shaal Mayan's outlook; she pitied him. Because he would never know any different, and because he had to wait until both Sinclair and Garibaldi had left before making a scene.

Once Ivanova left the docking bay, however, her strength crumbled a little and she found an out of the way corridor to stop in until she could compose herself. She closed her eyes and leant against the wall, trying to erase the memories of Malcolm from her mind, disposing of one at a time, slowly, until she became aware of someone standing in front of her.

Dark amber met bright blue, and then his hands were on her shoulders. He didn't pull her to him, didn't try to hold her, just gave her some of his strength. “It will get easier, Susan,” Sinclair said to her, his deep voice rumbling quietly.

“I know.”

“Your shift doesn't start for another half an hour, does it?” he asked.

Ivanova regarded him carefully. “No, why?”

“I thought we could talk.” He let his hands fall to his sides, then put them in his pockets. “I feel I owe you an explanation.”

“Alright.”

As they started to walk away, a voice called them. “Commander Sinclair! Lieutenant Commander Ivanova! Wait a moment, please.” They turned to see Delenn striding down the corridor.

Sinclair smiled cordially at her. “Ambassador, what can we do for you?”

“This is...difficult for me, but I feel I owe you an apology, Commander,” Delenn said. “You as well, Lieutenant Commander. I believed....” She took a deep breath. “I believed that you sympathised with the attackers.”

“It was necessary, Ambassador,” Ivanova replied before Sinclair could. “We should be apologising to you.”

Delenn shook her head. “Unnecessary. You were doing what needed to be done, I understand that now. My apology, however, is needed because I should have known better. Neither of you carry such hatred in your hearts, yet I let my feelings cloud my judgement.”

“We all act on emotion from time to time, Ambassador,” Sinclair told her, still smiling warmly. “It's what sets us apart as sentient lifeforms. And we should never apologise for that.”

Delenn regarded him carefully for a few moments before allowing herself a small smile. “Very true.”

Down the corridor, Shaal Mayan came to a stop, G'Kar beside her. “Is there a problem?” the Narn asked.

She did not answer him at first, too preoccupied with the trio in front of her. Two humans, one Minbari, not similar in any way, yet there was something between them, a kind of kinship, Shaal Mayan thought, though of what kind or purpose she did not know. But the future shone brightly around them all, like a beacon in space, and without knowing why, she was filled with a miraculous sense of hope.

“No, Ambassador,” she replied eventually. “Everything is just fine.”

TBC


	9. 107 And the Sky Full of Stars

_April 2258_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

She smiled at him as she reached for his face, the backs of her fingers caressing his cheek gently, with infinite care. He smiled back, totally relaxed for the first time in a long time, and let her work her way up to his head, massaging his scalp and playing with his hair. Then she stood, tall and graceful, and walked behind him, her hands dropping to his bare shoulders, kneading the knotted muscles there.

“I've seen smaller asteroids,” she quipped.

He rolled his eyes, although she couldn't see him. “You try running this station.”

“My solution is simple; threaten everyone at least once a day and they would soon learn their places.”

He laughed loudly, the sound reverberating in his torso. Suddenly she was straddling his thighs, her knees holding his hips tightly, her hands on his chest. His breath caught in his throat as he looked her, hair falling down one side of her face. Hesitantly, with a shaking hand, he reached for her.

“You are beautiful, Susan....”

She started to move and fade, as though being pulled from his grasp. He tried to hold onto her but failed, the scene being replaced by one of space and metal and war. Minbari warships loomed in front of him, he heard himself shouting someone's name as one by one his squadron of StarFurys were destroyed....

Sinclair sat bolt upright in bed, soaked in sweat, his hair hanging over his forehead, his damp T-shirt clinging to him like a second skin. He threw the covers off the bed and all but staggered to the kitchen for a drink. It had been a while since he had suffered nightmares about the Battle of the Line, and he hadn't missed them one bit. But the dream about Ivanova before that was something new and just as disturbing to him. He gulped down some water, then turned to the sink and splashed some on his face, once again thinking himself lucky to have quarters with running water. As he lifted his head and stared ahead, warning bells began to ring at the back of his mind. He went over the computer console, pressed a button and nothing happened.

“Computer?” Sinclair said to the empty room. No response. He tried the console again, still nothing, and worry began to gnaw at him.

After getting no response from anyone on his link either, he dressed quickly and headed up to C&C. The station was deserted. Empty corridor followed empty corridor; in a place like Babylon 5, such silence was unheard of. All the consoles were dark in C&C and there was no movement at all outside. Something was seriously wrong, Sinclair just couldn't quite figure out what it was. When the computer finally did come back online and confirmed no evacuation had been ordered – not that he imagined anyone would abandon the station but leave him there – he told it to search for life signs. It found one; back in the central corridor. Rolling his eyes, Sinclair broke into a jog, but when he reached his destination, there was no one there, the computer wasn't answering, and he was starting to lose his temper.

Then the spot lights went out one by one, leaving a single beam on him, and a figure appeared. “Good evening, Commander,” he said.

“What the hell is going on?” Sinclair demanded to know.

“Maybe you're awake. Maybe you're asleep. It doesn't matter. I am a Knight, on a quest, if you will,” he replied. “And my quest is to find the truth. One way or another.”

“What truth?”

“The truth of what happened to you at the Battle of the Line.”

Sinclair stared at the Knight incredulously. “That was over ten years ago!”

“And? Did you think we had forgotten?” the Knight asked. “Have you forgotten, Commander?”

Images flashed through his mind again, of Mitchell breaking away, his StarFury blown to pieces.... “I filed a report. I don't remember what happened. I've never been able to remember.”

“You disappeared off the radars for twenty four hours, and when you returned, the war was over! And you say you don't remember?” He shook his head. “I'm sorry, Commander, but I don't believe you. So you and I are going to walk through the synapses of you brain until we find the answers.”

Sinclair looked around the station, comprehension dawning. “So this isn't real? It's just a...simulation?”

The Knight inclined his head. “As you say. But you're real, Commander. And so am I. And the pain....” He smiled coldly. “The pain is very real.”

Sinclair was about to ask what he meant when white hot shock crackled through his body, causing him to shake and tremble. He tried to keep his thoughts rooted somewhere, in something that was important to him that the Knight couldn't take away, to stop himself from passing out, because the pain was, unfortunately, very real.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova awoke with a start, before her alarm, which in itself was unusual. There was a cold sense of dread in her chest which she couldn't understand, couldn't ignore, and would not go away. She dressed automatically, ate breakfast on autopilot, and was still trying to process what was wrong when Delenn appeared on the command deck.

“Good morning, Lieutenant Commander,” she said, inclining her head.

Ivanova nodded back. “Ambassador. Can I help you?”

“I am sorry to disturb you here, but I was looking for Commander Sinclair.”

“His shift isn't due to start for another couple of hours yet.”

“I know, but we were supposed to meet a little while ago,” Delenn said, confusion and worry mixing on her face. “He did not appear.”

Ivanova just smiled, still preoccupied. “I haven't seen him since last night, Ambassador, but I wouldn't worry too much. Something has probably come up. Perhaps Mr Garibaldi might know where he is.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant Commander. Good day.”

Ivanova just nodded and turned her attention back to her duty. It was unusual for the Commander to miss an appointment, but problems occurred without warning all the time on Babylon 5. Besides, she was far more interested in her inexplicable feeling of dread.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

After his brief conversation with Delenn and his inability to raise Sinclair on his link, Garibaldi entered the Commander's quarters with some trepidation, the cold knot of dread in his stomach making it difficult for him to concentrate. The Commander was his best friend, his oldest friend, and if something had happened to him.... He shook his head, thinking it was probably something simple like he was ill or had overslept. But both of those were about as likely as Londo and G'Kar getting drunk together in the next five minutes. He entered Sinclair's bedroom to find it empty, and the bed looking like it hadn't been slept in. Slowly he surveyed the room and noticed the link by the side of the bed, confirming his worst fears. Despite protocol, Garibaldi delayed in reporting Sinclair's disappearance, because despite the Commander's assurances and the obvious chain of command, there was more going on between him and Ivanova than either of them were admitting, maybe even to themselves. And Ivanova was on duty in C&C at that very moment, and when she heard about Sinclair's disappearance.... Garibaldi shook his head. He wanted to tell her personally, but at the same time he knew every minute he delayed could decrease the Commander's chances of being found unharmed, or even alive.

Taking a deep breath, he tapped his link. “Garibaldi to C&C.”

_“C &C online,”_ Ivanova replied, her voice as cool and efficient as always.

“We have a problem.”

There was something in the way he said it that made her blood run cold. Suddenly her feeling of dread make perfect sense, and she wondered why she didn't figure it out before. And though she already knew the answer to the question, she voiced it anyway. _“What kind of a problem, Mr Garibaldi?”_

“Ambassador Delenn was supposed to meet Commander Sinclair in the council chambers this morning. He never showed. I'm in his quarters right now and he's not here, though his link is.” Garibaldi crossed the room. “His uniform's still here, though.”

Ivanova swallowed hard and tried to keep her voice from shaking. _“Any clue as to what's happened to him?”_ she asked.

“Well, it doesn't look like there was struggle, but the place looks neat and tidy, like someone was trying to cover up the Commander's disappearance.” Garibaldi looked around. “There's also no clue as to how long he's been gone. Could be five minutes, could be five hours.

_“I last spoke to him when I started my shift last night,”_ Ivanova said, tapping at her console. _“I'm not showing any communications to him since then, so let's assume he's been gone eight hours. We've had at least half a dozen ships leave the station since then.”_

“Recommend notifying our outposts in neighbouring sectors. Give them a list of the ships which have left and get them to stop and search them,” Garibaldi said. “I'll get all my people together and organise a search of the entire station. I'll link in if or when we find anything.”

_“I'll inform Dr Franklin,”_ Ivanova replied, ending the communication.

Taking a deep breath, she told the technicians she was taking a break and strode from the command deck. Only in the safety of Sinclair's office did she allow the shaking to start and her control to slip. He was missing. The feeling of dread she had been feeling since awakening had pertained to him and she hadn't realised. Of course there was no real reason she should have known; it had only been a couple of weeks since the incident with Homeguard, since their friendship had truly started to grow, and only four short months that she had been on board the station. Yet suddenly Ivanova stood to lose the most important person in her life, and she found that thought terrified her.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“I'd like to say I have your undivided attention, but that simply would not be true,” the Knight said.

Sinclair scowled. He wasn't sure how long he had been in the simulation, but already the man was irritating him. “What do you mean?”

“Your mind is in here with me, but a part of you is rooted here....” He gestured around him. “...In this station. And there is something else as well which commands your attention, something you are doing an excellent job of hiding from me.”

Sinclair had a good idea what it was, but wasn't about to share that with the Knight. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Oh, I'm sure you don't, Commander,” he replied sarcastically. “And I have no doubt whatsoever that you won't tell me anything. But let's see if we can persuade you.”

“Commander, there you are! I've been looking all over for you.”

“Garibaldi?” Sinclair exclaimed incredulously. From his position on the overpass, the Knight calmly shot the security chief in the chest and he crumbled. “No!”

“Do not worry, Commander, a simulation only, remember?”

Sinclair looked back and Garibaldi was gone. But then Franklin appeared and the Knight shot him too. It was painful to watch, but not as bad as seeing his old friend die. Then Ivanova appeared.

“We've been looking for you everywhere, Commander,” she said.

Sinclair closed his eyes and turned his head away from what he knew was about to happen. “No....”

“Ah, it seems we've found your weaknesses at last,” the Knight said triumphantly. “Let's see how many times you can watch them die before you decide to share the truth with us.”

“I don't remember anything!” Sinclair shouted. “I've tried, dammit. Over the years I've tried to remember, but I can't!”

“Not good enough, Commander. We _will_ discover the truth, even if it kills you.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Any luck?” Ivanova asked as Garibaldi and Franklin walked onto the command deck. There was a strong note of worry in her voice, but she didn't care whether they noticed or not.

Garibaldi shook his head. “I've got everyone going over this place with a fine tooth comb but it could take days to search a station this size.”

“The Commander may not have days, or even hours. If he's hurt....” Franklin trailed off, glancing at Ivanova, and was surprised to see the depth of emotion in her eyes.

“All ships which left last night have been searched, and all ships which have left since have been searched before they're allowed to depart,” Ivanova said, willing her voice to remain steady. “Nothing.”

Garibaldi put his hands in his pockets and shifted uncomfortably on the spot. “You might want to send a maintenance bot outside the station to go over the hull.”

Franklin looked at him and frowned. “Looking for what?”

He paused and took a deep breath. “A body.”

Ivanova stared at him for a moment, then realised that although the situation must have been difficult for him too, he also had a job to do, and he was using duty to cover up how he really felt. For a moment, he was more Russian than she was and that realisation put the strength she needed back in her. She straightened, set her shoulders back, and pushed her emotions from her face, although she did allow herself a glare in the security chief's direction.

“Some days, Mr Garibaldi, I'm very glad I don't have to think the way you do.” And with that, she walked to the front of the observation dome to stare out into space.

Franklin looked like he was about to say something else, but Garibaldi shook his head and motioned for them to leave. “What's going on?” the doctor asked as soon as they were out of ear shot.

“Nothing.”

Franklin's eyebrows shot up. “Nothing? Ivanova....”

“...Is as concerned as the rest of us,” Garibaldi said firmly. After his own hypothesis about the relationship between Sinclair and Ivanova, and his subsequent talk with Sinclair, he wasn't about to let anyone else start speculating over it, or starting rumours, whether by accident or on purpose. “She's got the station to run while he's missing, as well as trying to find its missing Commander.”

Franklin's eyebrows remained where they were, high on his head, surprised at Garibaldi's defensive tone, which told him more than just 'nothing' was going on, but pursuing the matter at all would be very bad for his health. “Well, there isn't much help I can give, but if there is....”

The security chief nodded in acknowledgement. “I'll let you know.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Do you know, Commander, I have conducted many investigations like this one, yet none as interesting,” the Knight said as Sinclair pushed himself to his feet after another bout of shock therapy. “Your subconscious is so deeply rooted in this station, it's almost impossible to separate it. Yet there is something else you are clinging to, something not even I can see, and to be able to hide something from me....” He shook his head. “Is it your secret, Commander? The secret of how you betrayed Earth?”

“I never betrayed Earth,” Sinclair told him through gritted teeth.

The Knight swung to face him. “How do you know? You say you don't remember.”

“Why are you doing this? Wasn't the official report enough for you? If I say I don't remember, it means just that!”

“No, Commander, it isn't good enough for me. Something happened at the Battle of the Line, and you were at the centre of it all.”

Sinclair balled his fists. “Go to hell. I don't have to tell you anything. I'm betting you don't have a lot of time. Security is probably turning this station upside down looking for me.”

“You're right, and as it is still clear you won't talk to me, let's see if you'll talk to someone else,” the Knight said, fading into darkness.

“Hello, Commander.”

Sinclair felt the colour from his face drain as he turned to look at the man in front of him. “Mitchell.... No, you're dead. You're all dead.”

“Why did you do it, Commander? Why did you betray Earth?” Mitchell asked, walking towards him.

Sinclair could feel his resolve cracking, yet he still had no answer. Then she appeared just behind Mitchell, ghost-like and ethereal, willing him to hold on just a little longer, to be strong just a short time more.

“You're dead,” he said more firmly. Then he sighed. “I tried to tell you, but you wouldn't listen. You never listened. I tried....” He looked at her as she smiled and faded.

“What, Commander? What did you see?” The Knight was suddenly at his side. “There was something, I know it. What are you hiding?”

“Nothing!”

“What did you try to do?” The Knight asked, changing tactics.

“I tried to ram the Minbar cruiser after my squadron got splashed,” Sinclair said angrily. “And then....”

“You blacked out. Yes. Convenient.” The Knight suddenly whirled on Sinclair. “Do you know what I think? I think the Minbari took one look at our defences and decided it would cost them too much to invade Earth outright. So instead, they started to subvert people; they started with you. They took you aboard their ship, fixed you some milk and cookies and asked you to work for them. And you did.”

“No....”

“You betrayed Earth just so you could live. It's perfectly understandable, Commander. Admit it, and this will all be over.”

“No.”

“Admit it!”

“No!” Sinclair roared, punching the Knight in the kidneys. He cried out in pain, then shimmered and disappeared. The Commander stared at the spot where he had disappeared, his resolve growing stronger, then he glanced at his hand, watching as he clenched and unclenched his fist. “Well, well. It seems the pain is real for both of us.”

Then there was a hand on his shoulder and he whirled. “No, I'm not a part of their tricks. I'm a part of your mind.”

He smiled wanly. “I know.”

“Just hold on a little longer, Commander. We _will_ find you.”

Sinclair nodded. “I'll try, Susan. I'll try.” 

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova was distracted as she walked slowly through the main corridor of the station. They were still no nearer to finding Sinclair and her worry was beginning to gnaw at her in an unpleasant way. She felt there was more she could and should be doing to help find him, though what that something was, she wasn't sure.

“Lieutenant Commander.”

Ivanova paused to see Delenn appear from a side corridor, hurrying to her side. “Ambassador.”

“I have heard that Commander Sinclair is missing. Is there anything I can do to help?”

She shook her head. “Not really, but thank you for the offer. We're searching the station now, but we have no leads as to where he might be or what might have happened to him.”

“Could Talia Winters not help?” Delenn asked as they both started walking again.

“She's only a level P5. She needs direct line of sight in order to use her telepathic abilities,” Ivanova replied, shaking her head.

Delenn sighed. “I hope nothing serious has happened to him. Commander Sinclair is one of the most compassionate beings I have ever met. Wise and intelligent....” She paused, a small smile creeping onto her face. “Although I would never tell him such things, of course.”

Ivanova smiled back. “He won't hear it from me, Ambassador,” she promised.

Delenn glanced sideways at Ivanova. “And you, Lieutenant Commander? How are you coping with this latest crisis? If I may ask.”

She didn't want to talk about it, with anyone, yet there was an odd feeling of kinship to the reserved Minbari at her side. “It's difficult. I worry that I'm doing a good enough job in the Commander's stead, and I'm worried about him. I can't help feeling he's in great danger.”

“I know what you mean. In my time here, I have noticed Commander Sinclair has the great ability to inspire boundless loyalty in all he meets, regardless of their relationship to him.” Delenn paused while they entered the transport tube. “He is almost Minbari in that way.”

Ivanova nodded. “He is one of the finest officers I have ever served with. If something happened to him....”

Delenn saw more than was being said but chose not to comment on it. It was not her place, nor was it the right time. Instead, she turned to Ivanova and laid a hand briefly on his arm. “I am sure Commander Sinclair will return to us shortly, as long as those who care about him do not give up.”

The physical contact and touching words were not lost on Ivanova. “I hope you're right, Ambassador. I hope you're right.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“It's strange, Commander, that a Minbari should figure so prominently in your thoughts,” the Knight said as Delenn walked once more from the central corridor.

It was a pattern that had started when the Knight returned to the simulation, obviously a combination of fatigue on Sinclair's part and what he presumed was an increase in the drugs they were feeding him. Garibaldi, Ivanova and Delenn all made frequent appearances in his mind, asking him the same questions over and over again. Sometimes Mitchell would appear, or one of the other pilots who died on the Line, but Sinclair wouldn't talk to any of them. He knew they weren't real. He kept focussing on Ivanova's words, focussing on the hope that they were looking for him, focussing on clenching and unclenching his fist, because those things were real. The Knight was becoming increasingly frustrated, because he _knew_ Sinclair was hiding something, but no matter what he or his colleague did, they could not see that secret.

So he tried a different tactic. “It has been a long road, hasn't it, Commander? How many nights have you lain awake trying to remember what happened at the Battle of the Line?”

_The Minbari warship flew in front of him. His team was destroyed, decimated. He tried...._

The Knight leant forward. “That's it, Commander, you're almost there. You're almost to the answer, the one you have been searching for for over a decade. You owe it to yourself to reach out and grasp it. For your own piece of mind.”

_The Minbari warship flew in front of him. His team was destroyed, decimated. He tried...._

“Yes? Tried to do what?”

“To ram the Minbari ship,” Sinclair said hoarsely as the memory started to come back to him, his vision now swimming with the drugs.

“What happened then, Commander?” the Knight asked. “You are almost there. Don't you want to know the answer?”

“Yes.”

“Then go now. Now. Now!”

It was like he had been freed from a prison he didn't know he was being held in. Sinclair's mind soared back in time, to the Battle of the Line. He saw his colleagues killed, saw himself try to ram the Minbari ship. Saw the beam that captured his StarFury and watched as he was taken aboard the cruiser. They tortured him, not really asking any questions; they seemed more interested in his anatomy, his endurance. Finally, he was hung on a rack, a strange triangle held before him, and when it glowed, he heard the shocked gasps of others in the room, though he could not see them. Then he was in a dark room with nine circles of light highlighting nine hooded and robed figures. He turned, looking at them all, looking for answers, then something made him strike out for the smallest one, pulling the hood back to reveal a face.

“I know you,” Sinclair whispered in shock, as he found himself looking at....

“Commander.”

A voice, soft yet commanding. Talking to him.

“Commander.”

He didn't want her to call him that. Didn't want to acknowledge her.

“Jeff.”

Sinclair's eyes shot open, though he wasn't aware he had shut them. He was still wearing his torn and ragged pilot's uniform, could feel the dried sweat and blood and dirt on his skin, yet he wasn't on the Minbari ship any more. And who he saw in under the hood was not who was before him now.

“Is this...?”

She smiled. “You tell me, Commander. You keep calling to me.” She took a step towards him. “This is the other part you didn't want the Knight to see, am I right? The part you don't want anyone to know about, even me.”

“This isn't real....”

She touched his face. “Yes, it is. Whatever you do, Jeff, don't tell them anything. You didn't do anything wrong; you didn't betray anyone. What happened was of Minbari making, not yours. Don't punish yourself any longer.”

It seemed strange that his name sounded perfectly normal coming from her lips when in reality it shouldn't have done. “Are you my conscience?”

“Would you like me to be?”

“I would make this a damn sight easier to accept,” Sinclair grumbled.

She smiled. “Then I'm your conscience. And I'm telling you to hold on just a little bit more. You've discovered the answer you needed to find; now you need to break out of this cybernet.”

He shook his head. “I can't.”

She took hold of his hand, the one he kept making into a fist, and showed it to him. “Yes, you can. You know how to. You don't want to die here, like this. It isn't your time.”

“You're right, I don't,” Sinclair admitted. “Will you be...waiting for me?”

Ivanova smiled again. “Always.” She let go of his hand and took a step back. “Time to come home, Commander. Come home....”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova sat at her station in C&C, absently swivelling the chair from left to right. There was something distracting her, almost like a very quiet buzzing noise in the distance, though there was no such sound to be heard. Sinclair had been missing for hours now, the chances of them finding him, or finding him alive, dropping rapidly with every passing minute, and Ivanova had to fight the overwhelming urge to start ripping the station apart with her bare hands. Then suddenly she thought about Catherine; she was off-station, and Ivanova wasn't sure whether to try and contact her or not regarding the situation with Sinclair. Her chair swivelling increased its pace for a moment while she thought about it, then stopped as she came to a decision. No, she wouldn't want to worry Catherine with half-baked reports. If and when something more serious happened, then she would contact her. Nodding to herself, satisfied with the decision, Ivanova continued her slow left to right movement, her eyes staring unseeing at the stars and ships outside.

_A body. Flash of red. Not blood. Just red._

Ivanova almost fell out of her seat. It was...a vision? She didn't know. But it was strong, and the buzzing noise was increasing. Then her comm panel beeped. _“Garibaldi to C &C.”_

“C&C online,” she answered. “What have you got, Chief?”

_“I think we've caught a break. We've found a body floating outside of red sector. It's Benson, he was one of mine.”_ Garibaldi's voice sounded heavy, and Ivanova knew he took loses personally. _“The body can't have been dragged far, so we're going to concentrate our search in this area.”_

“Alright. Keep me informed.” As the comm channel was shut, Ivanova closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Come home, Commander. Please.”

She was so focussed on the news she had just received that she wasn't aware of the buzzing noise stopping.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“You saw something, didn't you? Grey...grey shapes, something....” The Knight trailed off, then suddenly banged his fist against the railing. “Tell me!”

“Go to hell,” Sinclair said, though it sounded more like a growl. His grip on reality, or so he thought, was growing stronger. Just another few moments....

“Not me, Commander, but you most certainly. After betraying Earth, it's where you and others like you belong.”

The snap was almost audible. Sinclair wrenched himself out of the cybernet with almost inhuman willpower, breaking the bond on his right wrist with ease. He pulled the equipment away from his face with obvious distaste, noticed the Knight sat next to him, staring at him in shock, and didn't hesitate before pulling his fist back and smashing the machinery into his face. Sinclair freed himself from the chair and stood up, swaying slightly, his eyes unfocussed. The other Knight heard the commotion and came running in, PPG in hand, straight into Sinclair's fist. As he sprawled unconscious on the floor, the Commander grabbed the PPG and staggered to the door.

“Got to get to my ship,” he muttered.

_'Come home, Commander. Please.'_

Sinclair shook his head. “Not real. Got to...to my ship.”

He reeled through the corridors like a drunk, not recognising anything yet everything seemed familiar in an odd, surreal sort of way. He heard voices heading towards him, and flattened himself against the wall, PPG at the ready. He saw men in uniform heading towards him, but figures in grey robes walking away. He shook his head, wondering what the hell was going on, the firmest thought in his mind to get to his ship, but another urge telling him to go home, wherever that was.

“Commander?”

Sinclair turned, a security officer in grey approaching him cautiously, but she suddenly turned into a grey hooded figure and he shot at her instinctively, luckily missing her, though he didn't stick around to see that. As soon as he had fired, he ran away as quickly as he could.

The security officer tapped her link. “C&C, this is security. I've found the Commander, he's....”

There was another PPG shot and a sharp cry of pain. In C&C, Ivanova frowned as she tapped her console. “Security, say again.” No response. Ivanova looked sideways at Garibaldi, worry creasing her face.

“Where did the signal originate?” he asked.

“Red 6, level 2.” They locked eyes for a moment before Garibaldi nodded in acknowledgement to the silent order and strode from the command deck. Ivanova took a deep breath, trying to find her inner calm before she activate the speakers in that area. “Commander Sinclair. Commander. Commander Sinclair, please....” She hesitated, making sure her next words were the right ones. “...Report in.”

Sinclair stopped dead in his tracks, Ivanova's voice cutting through the haze of drugs which had been pumped through his system. A voice he was sure he would have recognised if he was deaf, a voice he seemed to have been born hearing. He straightened, realising where he was and what had happened to him, and started to head for the Zocalo, following Ivanova's voice and his instincts. Unfortunately, the second Knight had tracked him and was intent on finishing the job so Sinclair couldn't talk. Being shot at immediately reset his thinking and he was sure he was being held captive, though in the back of his mind he could still hear Ivanova.

_'Come home, Commander. Please.'_

He made himself focus and shot the Knight in the shoulder, flooring him. But then he also shot at Garibaldi, not recognising his old friend. Then he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and turned, expecting to see Ivanova.

It was Delenn.

The irrational part of his brain made him stand and point the PPG at her, but the rational part that was still working made him see Ivanova stood right behind the ambassador and his finger hovered over the trigger.

“It's me, Commander. Ambassador Delenn. Your friend,” Delenn said quietly, walking slowly towards him.

But Sinclair shook his head, levelling the PPG at her head. “No. I know you. I know....”

Delenn couldn't mask the shock from registering on her face. After everything they had been through, after all the precautions they had taken, he could not have remembered. She knew what she would be ordered to do, but knew as well she could not do it, she _would_ not do it. Yet Delenn chose to ignore the implications and pretend she didn't know what Sinclair was talking about.

“I'm your friend, Commander,” she repeated.

But Sinclair was still stubbornly shaking his head. “No. I saw you. I saw you.”

His expression shifted and Delenn knew without a doubt that he was going to fire. But she didn't move, just kept eye contact. When the PPG flashed over her shoulder, she turned to see the second Knight lay on the floor, for good this time. She turned back to Sinclair just in time to see his expression soften, becoming the man she knew once more.

“Welcome home,” she said, leaning forward to catch him as he toppled forward.

But Sinclair didn't see Delenn; he saw Ivanova, and heard her voice.

_'Come home, Commander. Please.'_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

After being checked over by Franklin, nagged at by Garibaldi, and talking to the Knight – which was no use at all – Sinclair found himself with two more errands to run before he could finally rest. The first was fairly short, though it was difficult for him to lie to Delenn, but he had felt it necessary. Some finely tuned survival instinct told him it was for the best, and so he had told her he didn't remember anything when in truth he remembered it all. Now he just needed to understand it, but somehow he knew those answers would be a long time coming, if they arrived at all. After that task was completed, Sinclair found himself suddenly drained and longed to go back to his quarters and rest, like Franklin had ordered him to, but there was one other person he had to see before he could do that.

She answered the second she heard the chimes, and the sound of her voice telling him to enter was once again like a balm to him, soothing him and calling him home. Talking a deep breath, his hands behind his back, Sinclair ducked slightly and entered Ivanova's quarters. She was dressed casually, having long been off duty, but she showed no sign of surprise at his visit.

“I hope I'm not disturbing you, Lieutenant Commander.”

“Of course not, Commander. Is there a problem?”

Sinclair smiled. He had no doubt whatsoever that Ivanova would say he wasn't disturbing her even if she was in the middle of something deadly important. “No, no problem. I just wanted to see you, to thank you.”

Now Ivanova did look surprised. “To thank me? For what?”

Sinclair looked around and she took the hint, gesturing to the armchair while sitting on the couch herself. “After I broke out of the cybernet, I didn't recognise anything or anyone, not even Garibaldi, until I saw Delenn. It was strange seeing her was what snapped me out of it.” He paused and leant forward, his elbows on his knees, hands together. “But hearing your voice was the trigger, that's what started the process. Hearing your voice...it was like a beacon in the night, showing me the way home.”

He spoke so quietly, his eyes downcast, that Ivanova wasn't sure she had heard him correctly, or sure the inference was what she thought it was. But she could feel him from across the room, could sense the sincerity coming from him, but also the doubt, not over what he was saying, but how she viewed him. Drawing on her Russian courage and boldness, Ivanova stood quietly and moved around the table, kneeling in front of Sinclair and reaching out for his chin. With a steady hand, which surprised her, she lifted his chin up until they were eye to eye.

“Whenever you need direction, I will be here. Whenever you need someone at your side, I will be here. Whenever you need someone at your back, I will be here.” She paused and let her hand fall away slowly. “Whenever you need me, I will be here. Welcome home.”

Sinclair held her gaze, longing to reach out and touch her face, but it would have been far too much, too soon. If they could work on building their friendship, that would at least be something. Instead, he smiled gently at her, a smile he reserved for only a few special people.

“Thank you...Susan.” Then he moved back and made to stand up, extending his hand to Ivanova as he did so. She accepted and they rose together, almost painfully conscious of not touching too much. He held her hand for a fraction longer than he should have, but they both pretended not to notice. “I suppose I'd better head for my quarters before Dr Franklin starts checking up on me.”

Ivanova nodded. “A good idea, Commander.”

“See you in a few hours.”

She nodded, then smiled at him warmly. “Sleep well, Commander. Oh, and no wandering off this time. Please.”

“I'll try not to.”

TBC


	10. 108 Mind War

_April 2258_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Catherine put her cup down rather forcefully and sighed. “Jeff, are you even listening to me?” she asked in exasperation.

Sinclair focussed on her. “Of course I am,” he replied.

“Then what did I just say?” she asked, leaning back and folding her arms in defiance.

“You told me you have a meeting later with a megacorps to discuss the details of a deal they've put on the table for you,” he said promptly.

Catherine relaxed a little, but not much. Ever since she had returned from her survey trip, Sinclair had been different. Through listening to gossip from station personnel, she had discovered how Sinclair had been kidnapped and tortured with psychotropic drugs, and she had rushed to see him. Except he had been busy, hadn't returned her calls, hadn't contacted her at all, until she finally decided enough was enough and confronted him as he left his quarters one morning. Their discussion had been brief, and somewhat pointless; it was almost as if Sinclair had forgotten completely about his ordeal and had simply moved on. In the few days Catherine had been back, they had met for coffee only one; he had never invited her back to his quarters. She had insisted they had breakfast together that morning, because she knew he didn't have anything urgent to do for a few hours, and she had hoped it would give them chance to talk. But he had been distant and distracted ever since he sat down.

“Alright, Jeff, what's going on?”

Sinclair looked at the woman opposite him and stared for a moment, trying to find some sort of connection with her. And other than a shared past, it was like looking at a stranger. “Nothing. I've just got a lot on my mind.”

“You run a space station. It's a busy and important place; you're always going to have a lot on your mind,” Catherine told him, then sighed. “We need to talk about us.”

Sinclair frowned, briefly wondering what she was talking about. He had thought it was obvious what his feelings on that matter were, though he knew he hadn't actually spoken the truth. “What is there to talk about?” he asked.

For a moment, they both had the same thought, both wondering why he was hesitating making the decision they both knew was coming. For Sinclair, it was out of a fear; once he let go of Catherine for good, he committed himself a path he wasn't sure he would be able to follow until its end, no matter how much he wanted to. For Catherine, she took it as a sign of hope, that perhaps there was still time for him to return to her, where she knew he truly belonged.

“I want an answer from you, Jeff, one way or another. When I was here last....”

“We made no commitments to each other,” Sinclair reminded her. “We said we'd talk when you got back, but you were only here briefly and we didn't even see each other.”

“I'm here now,” Catherine said stubbornly. “Let's talk now.”

“Catherine, it was just one night....”

“Are you saying that's it? A one night stand?” she asked angrily.

“Which was all you wanted at the time,” Sinclair snapped back.

“So you are just messing me about...using me!”

“You came to me first!”

“And you asked me to stay!”

They both glared at each other, both angry with each other, themselves and the circumstances. Sinclair forced himself to calm down, to at least be the voice of reason in the discussion, whether Catherine appreciated that or not. She might be able to afford to lose her temper and be cranky all day; he could not, not when he had to deal with so many people.

“You're right, I did,” he admitted. “Because at the time, I needed someone as well. Maybe that's all it was, two compatible people in the right place at the right time.”

“And that's your answer?” Catherine asked scornfully.

Sinclair sighed, opened his mouth to speak, and his link beeped. “Sinclair.”

_“Commander, you're needed in the briefing room. The guild representative are waiting for you,”_ Ivanova informed him.

He frowned. “I thought I told them 1300 for the meeting.”

_“Yes, sir, you did. They arrived early,”_ Ivanova replied, and Sinclair could almost see her deadpan face. He didn't smile, outwardly at least.

“Alright. Tell them I'll be there in ten minutes.” He looked apologetically at Catherine, who looked like she could spit neutrons in that moment. “I'm sorry.” Without waiting for a reply, he stood and left.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Catherine was preoccupied as she spoke with the representative, but she was too professional to let it show. Sinclair's negativity regarding their relationship had angered her, although the more she thought about it, the more she knew there was something different about him this time. It wasn't just the time that had passed since they had last been together, or the fact that he was now in charge of an important station in Earthforce; it was something she couldn't put her finger on and it was annoying her. And she hated the fact that he wouldn't give her a straight answer, one way or the other. She was a big girl, she could handle the rejection, if that was to be his decision. She just wanted to know where she stood, and it seemed like he wouldn't even give her that piece of mind.

Talia Winters was there and Catherine gave her a brief smile as she sat down and listened the representative's terms. When he mentioned Sinclair, she felt herself bristle. “My personal life has nothing to do with this,” she snapped.

“I know. I was told to ask, so I'm asking. I need your word you won't mention this to anyone.”

Forcing herself to be calm, Catherine nodded. Talia turned to her, probing the validity of her answer, and though she tried not to notice anything else, she couldn't help but see her pain and confusion over Sinclair. Forcing herself to pull out, Talia paused before speaking.

“She's telling the truth.”

“Great.” The representative stood. “There's just one other thing. The planet is in a...contested sector of space, so we'll need approval from one other party before we proceed.”

Catherine became aware of someone stood next to her and the last person she expected to see was Ambassador G'Kar. What she knew of him she had heard through her dealings with the Ka'ree and not so much from her time spent on Babylon 5. But wherever the information about him had come from, he was not someone she really wanted to deal with, especially now.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

When Sinclair linked in, telling Ivanova to report to his office immediately, there was a tension in his voice that wasn't just due to whatever situation had unfolded. Frowning, she straightened her jacket and left the observation deck. Whatever had caused the stress for the Commander must be serious and she hated to think what it could be. He was fast becoming more than just her CO, but a friend as well, and for the first time, the speed at which things were progressing and the direction they were taking didn't bother her. She just wanted to be there for him, to make his life and job easier, to make him smile if possible, to make him laugh whenever she could. It was strange that now she had made the decision to just let things happen as they would, she felt far more relaxed, and if possible, even more at home on the station.

The first thing Ivanova saw upon entering Sinclair's office was his face, as though her eyes had fixed on it instantly. She noted the grim set of his mouth, the frown, and the hardness in his eyes. There was also a slight sadness in his expression which she couldn't understand; she knew Catherine had returned to the station, even knew Sinclair and she had met for breakfast that morning, yet there was none of the joy Ivanova would have expected to see. But then she saw the set of his shoulders, like a spring that had been coiled too tightly for too long, and her attention was drawn to the other people in the room.

Psi Corps.

Or more specifically, Psi _Cops_. Two of them.

Instinct made Ivanova want to run but she didn't. She straightened her jacket and her shoulders, unaware Sinclair was watching her closely, and strode across the room to take her place at his side. She stood as close to his shoulder as possible, clasping her hands behind her back and sliding a mask of professionalism and indifference into place.

“This is Mr Bester and his associate, Ms Kelsey.” Sinclair introduced the two Psi Corps to Ivanova, then both Earthforce officers remained silent and stony-faced as Bester explained the reason they were aboard Babylon 5. It seemed legitimate enough, but both knew there was more to the story than they were being told. Then Talia Winters arrived.

Sinclair had always held a lot of respect for Talia, but he knew Ivanova viewed her with a large level of distrust and dislike, and after what her mother had been through with the Psi Corps, he was pretty certain he would react the same way to them, or any telepath for that matter. But when Bester and Kelsey performed the mind scan, he looked at Ivanova to gauge her reaction, saw her looking at him for the same reason, and in that instant he saw something akin to worry for Talia. With the tiniest of movements, he nodded at her, pleased when she acknowledged him back. They both turned to look at Bester, both sickened by the obvious pleasure he was taking over the procedure. And while the mind scan meant nothing to either of them, it was clear it was causing Talia a lot of pain. Sinclair felt his shoulders bunch with the desire to leap across the desk and punch Bester in the face, and he knew his anger was close to the surface when he ground out, in a rough voice, “That's enough.”

Ivanova found it difficult to watch what was going on, but more than that, she was shocked by the wave of pure emotion she felt emanating from Sinclair. She had always been surprisingly empathic with people she knew well, but never on a level like this. Instinctively she wanted to reach out to him and calm him, though such contact would not have been professional, so she aimed her hand for the back of the chair instead, hoping he would notice and appreciate the gesture on some level. However, as she forced her attention back to the telepaths, Ivanova lost track of where her had was going, and almost jumped into the air when she felt something warmer yet just as solid as the back of the chair. Sinclair's shoulder, to be precise.

“That's enough!” he demanded, and Ivanova's fingers squeezed briefly before quickly letting go, hoping no one had noticed. When Talia staggered to the desk, Ivanova leant passed Sinclair to pour her a glass of water, her gesture of compassion welcomed by the other welcome. Despite her views on the Psi Corps, Talia Winters was beginning to appear on Ivanova's radar as a person, not just a telepath, and it was clear Sinclair respected her, which automatically put her higher in her esteem.

After the three telepaths had left, Sinclair and Ivanova remained in silence for some time before the Commander breathed a noisy sigh of relief. Conjuring a smile, he turned to Ivanova. “You okay?”

Ivanova's smile was a pale reply. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“I just don't like anyone coming onto my station and acting like they own it,” he said.

His possessiveness over Babylon 5 made Ivanova smile properly. “Well hopefully they won't be here long.” She paused. “Forgive me if this is none of my business, Commander, but are you sure there's nothing wrong?”

He wanted to tell her about Catherine, about his decision, but he couldn't. It was just too soon, yet when he looked at her, he knew in his heart and soul he was doing the right thing. “I'm fine, Lieutenant Commander.”

Ivanova nodded, though she wasn't convinced he was telling her the truth. “If there's nothing else....”

“Are you okay?” he repeated. Receiving an answer was very important to him.

“I will be,” she replied before leaving his office.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“You're just doing this to get at the Commander,” Catherine said as she and G'Kar walked through the Zocalo.

“No, despite what you have probably heard about me. I am doing this for your own good. Sigma 957 is not a healthy place. Strange things happen there. Trust me, Miss Sakai; look elsewhere. I would distress the Commander to no good if you failed to return.” He paused by a stall. “Let me share something with you that I have learnt during my time here: no one is who he appears to be. Not Mollari, not Delenn...not Sinclair.” Catherine gasped, wondering if the Narn knew the weight his words carried, pain lancing her as though she had been blasted with a PPG. “And not me. My warning is sincere; ignore it at your own peril.”

As Catherine stared at G'Kar, she read only sincere concern in his expression and that surprised her. She wanted to argue with him, though, tell him that Sinclair wouldn't actually care if she didn't come back, that if that was to happen, it would probably make his life easier. But she didn't. “If I have to, I'll go over your head, Ambassador. I have contacts of my own in the Ka'ree.”

His eyes clouded with sorrow. “Then I fear the Commander will miss you greatly when you fail to return,” G'Kar said, walking away.

“Before, maybe. But now? I don't think so,” Catherine murmured to herself. “Not that it matters. No one's going to stop me from going. Not you, not Jeff. No one.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair stood staring out the observation dome, clearly lost in thought. After their meeting with the Psi Cops, he and Ivanova had gone their separate ways and he had decided it was time to tell Catherine he no longer saw her as anything but someone he used to know. He would have liked to have called her a friend, but somehow he doubted that. Catherine was not the most forgiving person in the world. But he found she had already left the station on her survey run, and apparently at G'Kar's suggestion she not do so. Sinclair sighed. She told him she wanted to talk but that he never made an effort, yet when he did want to talk to her, she had left without a word. Strangely, it only served to convince him he was doing the right thing.

The door to the command deck opened and Sinclair turned slightly to see who was entering, hoping it was Ivanova, but almost just as glad to see the face of his old friend. “I got a lead on Ironheart,” Garibaldi told him. “Fifty quarters were rented since he arrived.”

“Good. The sooner we can get him off the station, the better,” the Commander said.

“The sooner we can get rid of the Psi Cops, exactly,” Garibaldi replied, nodding. “There's something creepy about they walk about, with their jack boots and....”

The door opened again and Sinclair glanced over the security chief's shoulder, glaring as Bester walked onto the command deck. Garibaldi kept his gaze on the Commander. “You'd better get started, Chief.”

“Just fifty quarters to search, Mr Garibaldi?” Bester said as the security chief walked past him. “Good. That shouldn't take you too long.” The telepath smirked and kept his eyes trained on Sinclair, but suddenly his expression shifted and he whirled. “Anatomically impossible, Mr Garibaldi, but you're welcome to try.”

Sinclair watched the interaction between the two with growing concern. There was something about the way Bester acted towards Garibaldi that made the Commander's hackles rise; it was almost as if the telepath had an unnatural fascination with his old friend. He saw the way Bester's eyes narrowed after Garibaldi had left, almost as though he had come to a decision about something, and Sinclair was pretty certain it wasn't anything pleasant. Then Bester turned to him, stared for a moment, and left silently. Sinclair stared for a long time at the empty spot the telepath had occupied, once again lost in his thoughts, though different ones this time. Then, with a great sigh, he went after Bester, not trusting him to leave Garibaldi alone to do his job.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova counted to ten after the tremors had stopped, then looked around the command deck. “Is everyone alright?” The crew all nodded. “What the hell was that?” Nobody answered.

Several decks down, Sinclair gritted his teeth together and looked at the Psi Cops. “What the hell was that?”

“Mind quake,” Bester replied.

_“Garibaldi to Sinclair.”_

“Sinclair here.”

_“Commander, we've got a serious problem on level 16. Suggest you get down here.”_

“On my way.” He turned to Bester. “I would like you and Ms Kelsey to wait in my office. If that's not too much trouble for you.”

Bester inclined his head slightly. “Of course not, Commander.”

Once he was out of earshot of the telepaths, Sinclair muttered a few choices phrases over the situation before tapping his link. “Sinclair to Ivanova.”

_“Ivanova here, Commander. Are you alright?”_

“I'm fine,” he said, automatically smiling. “You?”

_“I'm okay.”_ She swallowed and then said, _“We're all okay. What happened?”_

“Mind quake, whatever that is,” Sinclair replied. “Look, I need you to meet me in my office in twenty minutes, but wait for me outside. Understood?”

_“Yes, Commander.”_

Ten minutes later, he found Garibaldi on level 16, next to an impregnable forcefield. “I've had a few people injured from this,” the security chief said, gesturing to the field. “And a whole section of this level that's totally inaccessible. There's no way around it or through it.”

Sinclair wanted to swear profusely...or murder someone. “Bester said this was a need to know situation when I asked him what level of threat Ironheart posed to the station.”

“If you ask me, we need to know,” Garibaldi said.

“Chief, see to damage control. I think I need to have a talk to Mr Bester.”

Sinclair made his way quickly up to his office, pleased to see Ivanova waiting for him, and he resisted the almost overwhelming urge to touch her face, for some unknown reason. “Is everything alright, Commander?” she asked, concerned over the tightness in his features and posture.

He relayed what had happened and what was about to happen. “I think it's about time Mr Bester told us exactly what we are dealing with.”

“This should prove entertaining if nothing else,” Ivanova noted dryly as she followed him into his office.

The conversation started off marginally polite but rapidly descended after a few moments. The Earthforce officers accused the Psi Cops of putting the station in unnecessary danger, the Psi Cops acted like they didn't care, and soon Sinclair's voice was drowned out by Ivanova as she verbally ripped into Kelsey while Bester just stood by and watched. It was obvious by his expression that he was waiting for the Commander to reprimand his junior officer, but Sinclair had no intention of doing any such thing. In fact, he sat back and deliberately folded his hands, letting Ivanova's justifiable anger run its course.

Bester finally tired of the aggressive tirade and told them to just find Ironheart before leaving. Ivanova breathed heavily for a few moments before becoming aware that Sinclair was regarding her seriously.

“I'm fine,” she said in answer to his unspoken question, then she hung her head slightly. “I'm sorry, Commander.”

Sinclair looked astonished. “What for?”

“My conduct just now was....”

“I never noticed anything out of the ordinary,” Sinclair replied firmly.

Ivanova smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

Sinclair sighed and shifted in his seat so he could look at Ivanova properly. “You know they're right, though. If we don't find Ironheart and get him off this Babylon 5, he could destroy the entire station.”

“I know,” she replied with a sigh of her own before she turned and perched on the desk. “But how are we going to find him before that happens?”

“I'm not sure.”

“Do you think Ms Winters could help?”

Sinclair regarded her carefully, his head slightly on one side. “What makes you think that? Especially after she was scanned.”

Ivanova folded her arms. “I'm not sure...call it a hunch?”

“I won't rule out the possibility. But in the mean time, I think I'll see how Garibaldi's doing. And make sure Mr Bester stays out of the way.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

It's seemed Ivanova's hunch was spot on, and Sinclair made a mental note to tell her so after the crisis was over. But compliments would have to wait; the most crucial thing at that moment was to get Ironheart off the station before he could inflict any more damage and before the Psi Cops got to him.

Up on the command deck, Ivanova paced in short bursts, her hands clasped tightly behind her back. “Still no word?” Garibaldi asked as he came through the door.

She shook her head. “I still can't reach the Commander.”

“I'm sure it's nothing serious...,” Garibaldi started to say, but trailed off before he could finish the sentence. “You're right, he's probably gone and done something crazy. As usual.”

“Does it get easier?” Ivanova asked him as she came to a standstill.

“What? Putting up with Jeff's mild bouts of insanity?” He smiled. “Not really. After a while you become numb to it...most of the time. Or you become like him.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Chief, are you trying to imply...?”

_“Sinclair to C &C.”_

“Online. Commander, are you alright?” Ivanova asked before she could stop herself. Despite the brief time he had been out of contact, it was good to hear his voice again.

_“I'm fine,”_ he replied, his deep voice full of warmth, then added, _“We're fine. Is Garibaldi there?”_

“Right here, Commander.”

_“I need you to clear up a path. We're coming out.”_

Ivanova and Garibaldi both stared at the console and then at each other in surprise. “Jeff, are you saying that I think you're saying?” he asked.

_“I am, Chief. Make sure you keep it quiet as well. Take care of it.”_ With that, Sinclair cut the communication.

Ivanova patted Garibaldi's arm once, her expression one of pity. “Sometimes, Garibaldi, I am so glad I don't have your job.”

“You know what I just said about it getting easier?” he said and she nodded. “I lied. Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'll go and kill him.”

Ivanova smiled sweetly. “As long as you leave a piece for me.”

“With pleasure, Lieutenant Commander. With pleasure.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Though Sinclair would never have admitted it, he took great pleasure in punching Bester, and it made him even happier when Ironheart knocked him flat on his back. But there was no time for such idle thoughts; Ironheart had very little time left and Sinclair and Talia only just managed to get him to his ship in time, and then the two of them rushed to the command deck.

“Status,” Sinclair said as soon as he walked through the door.

Ivanova turned long enough to glare briefly at him, but let her expression turn more neutral when she saw the stress etched on his face. “He's just sat there, Commander. Not moving to the jumpgate.”

Sinclair tried not to roll his eyes at his second-in-command's predictable behaviour; no doubt she considered his decision to go in to see Ironheart alone as irresponsible at least, something they had already discussed more than once so far that year. And he had no doubt either that once things had calmed down, she would be telling him exactly what she thought of his crazy behaviour. Again.

Then Ironheart's ship exploded in a blinding flash of white light, and a large ghost-like shape appeared in front of the station to say his goodbyes. Ivanova watched with a little pang of envy when Sinclair caught Talia as she fainted after receiving Ironheart's 'gift'. As she studied his face, she saw some of the tension had ebbed, probably due to the fact that Bester was now a lot closer to leaving the station than he was before, a fact which pleased Ivanova too.

“Talia, are you alright?” Sinclair asked as she stared to come to. Kneeling by the telepath, he helped her into a sitting position, being careful not to touch her hands, Ivanova noticed, strangely jealous of his consideration towards her. Taking a deep breath, she forced her negative feelings to a far corner of her mind.

“Yes.... Yes, I'm fine.” He helped her to her feet and she smiled weakly at him. “I'd like to go to my quarters, if I may.”

Sinclair nodded. “Do you want an escort?”

“No, thank you.” Talia smiled at Ivanova as well before leaving the observation dome.

“I wonder what the gift was,” Ivanova said as she took her place at Sinclair's side.

“Somehow I doubt we'll ever know,” he replied. “Look, I'm going to get Bester off this station then we can get back to normal....”

“Normal, Commander?” Ivanova repeated, amused.

He ignored her. “Then our shifts are over. Why don't you join me for a coffee in the Zocalo?”

It was a casual offer, nothing implied, nothing to be read between the lines, and Ivanova saw no reason to decline. “Alright. Meet you in half an hour?”

He smiled at her, his eyes lighting up in a way she rarely saw. “Sounds good.”

Half an hour later, with Bester safely on a transport bound for Earth and Garibaldi overseeing clean up and repairs on the decks damaged by Ironheart, Sinclair walked towards the bar to find Ivanova already waiting for him.

“Has he gone?” she asked, and Sinclair didn't need any clarification of who 'he' was.

He nodded. “Back to normal again...for a while, at least.”

“Do you think it's true what Ironheart said about Psi Corps pulling the strings back home?”

Sinclair smiled. “Garibaldi just asked me the same thing.”

“Great minds think alike,” Ivanova replied.

His smile grew before he turned serious. “I don't know. I'd like to think not, but....”

“But?” Ivanova prodded after a lengthy silence.

Sinclair stared at her for a moment, gauging how much to say. His suspicions about what was happening back on Earth were just that, suspicions. To share them with someone else would have meant he was taking them more seriously than he wanted to. He had heard rumours from both Earth and Mars about things that were happening within Earthforce and the government, but they were like whispers in the night. If he said anything, he could end up losing his post, or worse, and he had worked too damn hard to give Babylon 5 up.

“You never know,” Sinclair answered finally. “Maybe Ironheart was right, maybe he wasn't. He was delusional towards the end, feverish. Who knows how much he said was real and how much was just in his mind.”

“Perhaps,” Ivanova replied. She too had heard rumours; she too had contacts of her own. But if the Commander wasn't open to talking about it, then she wouldn't press the issue. For now.

“I was pleased with the way you acted towards Talia as well,” Sinclair said, lowering his voice and leaning in a little, his coffee in one hand, the other resting on his thigh. “I know you have no love for telepaths in general, but I'm proud of the way you treated her in all of this. And your hunch that she knew where to find Ironheart was a good call as well.”

Ivanova acknowledged the praise with a slight nod of her head, nothing more. “I try to remind myself, sir, that they are not all the same. And Ms Winters has proven herself to be very professional during her time here, so far, at least.”

“So far?” Sinclair repeated, amused. “Are you always so pessimistic?”

“I am Russian, Commander. We invented the word.”

Sinclair leant back and laughed out loud, making Ivanova smile as she finally saw the last bit of tension ebbing from his features. She had been right earlier; all she wanted to do was make his life easier and it seemed she was achieving that by just being around, which made her happy as well. She waited until he had stopped laughing before making another comment which made him roll his eyes and change the conversation. Neither of them noticed they were being observed from a distance.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Down in the docking bay, Catherine exited her ship with a goodly amount of relief, her experience at Sigma 975 having shook her up more than she realised or cared to admit, and putting things into sharp relief for her too. She cared about Sinclair, loved him more than she had ever loved anyone, and she was going to fight for me. Make him realise that even though they had changed, they could still be together. As she made her way through the station, she saw G'Kar walking in the opposite direction and made a beeline to intercept him.

“Ambassador!”

“Ah, Miss Sakai. I am glad to see you have returned safely,” he said.

Something caught her eye, in the corner of her vision, and she couldn't help the thought that jumped into her head unbidden. _'At least someone is.'_ “Thank you for sending those ships. Why?”

G'Kar inclined his head in acknowledgement. “As I said, it would distress the Commander to no great purpose. As to why...why not?”

“That's not an answer.”

He chuckled. “Yes, it is. Not the answer you were expecting or wanted, but it is still an answer. I told you no one here is who he appears to be.”

“And you were right,” Catherine said quietly.

G'Kar stared at her intently for a moment, sensing there was more to her statement than simple agreement, but not wanting to ask any more. “If I surprised you, all the better.” He banged his fists against his chest. “Good day, Miss Sakai.”

“Good day, Ambassador.”

As G'Kar left, Catherine turned her attention fully to what had caught her eye moments before; Sinclair and Ivanova were sat together having a coffee, no doubt discussing work. Nothing wrong with that, they were colleagues after all, and Catherine had seen Sinclair and Garibaldi do the same many times over the years, but this was different. Sinclair and Ivanova were sat closely, almost but not quite touching, and whenever they spoke, they leant closer to one another, their body language speaking volumes, loudly and clearly. Catherine felt her resolve wavering. She loved Sinclair, of that she was sure, but she also wanted him to be happy. After everything he had been through, he deserved it. And if being with her didn't make her happy, she wouldn't stay. She knew the regulations about officers serving together and relationships, and she knew Sinclair well enough to know he would never break those rules. Maybe he and Ivanova would never be anything more than what they were now, maybe things would change tomorrow to make a relationship for them possible. Catherine didn't know, but she knew she wouldn't stand in the way. The time to leave Babylon 5 and Sinclair's life for good was fast approaching, whether she was ready for it or not. And even though her and Sinclair had said goodbye many times before, without knowing if they would ever see each other again, Catherine knew this time it was the final end for them. Whether Sinclair and Ivanova knew it or not, their hearts belonged to each other, even after such a short period of time; anyone else who came along with an interest in either of them would only get hurt. As Catherine watched, Ivanova said something which made Sinclair laugh loudly, and she felt fresh pain lancing through her. Turning away, she wiped a single tear from her cheek, and walked from the Zocalo without looking back.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like Catherine's character, so I hope I wasn't too harsh here, but I had to get rid of her somehow for this to work! She'll be back, though. ;)


	11. 109 By Any Means Necessary

_May 2258_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

It was going to be one of those days, Ivanova knew the minute she walked into C&C that if she was the kind of person who would call in sick, she would have done just that. By the time the first foot had landed on the command deck, three technicians were talking to her; by the time the second foot joined it, it seemed all the crew wanted to tell or ask her something. One sharp glare was enough to send them all scurrying, however, and Ivanova took a breath before walking to her console and beginning the tedious task of sorting through the problems. How so many could have occurred in such a short space of time, she didn't know; after all, it wasn't long since Sinclair's shift ended, though she also knew he hadn't gone back to his quarters to rest as he should have done. Instead he was studying the new budget, the details of which had just been sent through, as Ivanova had been informed by the computer when she woke up. It was likely to be a stressful time for him and already she was wondering what she could do to help him, other than her job. It had been a few weeks since the Ironheart situation, since they had enjoyed their first coffee and first time spent together off duty, and while there had been no more such instances, Ivanova felt as though it had been a huge step forward for them.

She looked out of the observation dome at the waiting ships and sighed. It was likely to be a stressful time for her as well. Babylon 5 had become a thriving centre for trade lately, which was good and bad. Good because it brought in revenue, but bad because they simply weren't equipped to deal with the amount of ships and cargo and passengers passing through the station, a fact the senate didn't seem to comprehend. Sinclair had spoken to Ivanova briefly about the senate and oversight committee a few days previous, using a few choice words to describe them, and she had not-too-secretly agreed. Despite being career military, Ivanova held the workers on the station in high regard, perfectly aware that despite Babylon 5 being a military outpost, if it wasn't for those workers, the station wouldn't function at all.

Most of the captains and traders were happy enough to wait, though 'happy' probably wasn't a good term to use. Most were too scared of Ivanova to put up a protest; already she had quite a reputation, one she seemed oblivious to. Except for the Narn captain, who decided to push his luck. Ivanova dealt with him diplomatically, managed not to annoy the dock workers, and everything was going as well as could be expected. Until one ship began to leave the same bay the Narn ship was going into. Until the Narn captain panicked and hit his thrusters, despite Ivanova's clear orders not to. Until there was an explosion and a fire, and the whole day went completely to hell.

“Ivanova to Sinclair,” she said after ordering a rescue crew to bay 6 to assess the damage.

Sinclair was just about to close his eyes for ten minutes when his link beeped. He had slept badly since his ordeal at the hands of the Knights, but was too stubborn to do anything about it. With a sigh, he tapped a button. “Sinclair here.”

_“Commander, you need to get up. We just had an explosion in one of the cargo bays.”_

He was on his feet in an instant. “Was anyone hurt?”

_“There are two people trapped by a fire. I've sent a rescue crew,”_ Ivanova informed him. _“We've also got a damaged Narn transport.”_

“Alright, I'll inform Ambassador G'Kar if you can talk to Mr Garibaldi,” Sinclair said. “I'll meet you in the conference room in fifteen minutes.”

_“Yes, sir.”_ Ivanova paused. _“What about Ms Connally?”_

Sinclair fought back a groan. “I suppose she had better be there as well.”

Ivanova fought back a grin. _“Would you like me to take contact her, Commander?”_ she offered.

“I never thought you'd ask, Lieutenant Commander. See you in fifteen.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

To say the meeting did not go well would have been an understatement. Connally, the representative for the guild of dock workers, did a lot of shouting and banging on the table, looking to place blame anywhere but her own people. G'Kar managed to avoid the fact that his captain was at fault and tried to make his complaint sound the most severe. Ivanova argued with both of them to no avail while Sinclair remained strangely silent. She glanced at him briefly and noted the tightness around his eyes and the growing five o'clock shadow. The day had barely begun and already he looked weary. G'Kar grumbled some more, then left, only to be replaced by Garibaldi. Both Sinclair and Ivanova looked at him expectantly, but as soon as they saw his expression, they knew the news was going to be back.

“The accident was caused by equipment failure,” he said, sliding a box down the table to Sinclair. Ivanova followed its path and found herself staring at the Commander's hand when he reached out to stop it. “Seems like a cluster of defective microchips just blew out.”

Ivanova watched Sinclair's eyes close briefly before transferring her gaze to Connally, who looked impossibly smug. She did not like the guild representative, found her to be too harsh, too unyielding, too abrasive, and too young to fully understand what was going on. Ivanova knew she had a reputation for being difficult, but Connally pushed that to the extremes. As Ivanova listened to Garibaldi explain what had happened, she tried not to look at Sinclair. It was obvious now that no one was really to blame, but both G'Kar and Connally would want someone to point the finger at, and that someone would undoubtedly be Sinclair, a thought Ivanova was sure had crossed the Commander's mind, looking at the expression on his face. She shook her head; someone always had to be the bad guy.

“This is going to play havoc with our schedule,” he muttered, and she nodded in agreement. “Ivanova, how long until we can get bay 6 back online?”

As she contemplated her reply, calculating how long the work would take and where to re-route the traffic, Ivanova stared at the faulty chips, which had somehow found their way into her hands, all the time aware that Connally was stood waiting for the ideal moment to strike. She saw, out of the corner of her eye, Sinclair rest his head on his hands on the table, and in that moment she wanted to tell Garibaldi to take a walk, throw Connally out of the nearest airlock, and protect him until he was fully, properly rested.

“Several hours at least,” Ivanova replied eventually.

“The problems dockside run deeper than a few microchips, _Commander_ ,” Connally pointed out, the sarcastic emphasis on 'Commander' making Ivanova want to jump across the table and teach her some respect. Even Garibaldi, who had been strangely quiet throughout, took a step forward as though to intervene.

But Sinclair just raised his head slowly to look at Connally as he replied calmly, diplomatically. None of this was his fault, Ivanova knew that, and it wasn't just her personal feelings clouding her judgement either. The Commander had kept her well informed of his continuous battles with the senate and oversight committee over Babylon 5's budget, yet no matter what tactic he used or stories he told them, they still insisted the station could cope with the money it received, which it obviously couldn't. Connally, however, didn't seem to be able to get such a concept through her thick skull, Ivanova thought, her defensive streak of Sinclair flaring right up as she listened to the way the guild representative talked to him before storming out.

“That went well,” Garibaldi remarked dryly.

Sinclair tossed him a look, but his reply was cut off by his link beeping, a tech informing him that Senator Hidoshi wished to talk to him about the new budget. Sighing, he replied, “On my way.”

The three of them looked at each other and as usual it was Garibaldi who spoke first. “Do you think they'll listen this time?” he asked.

“Has the sun recently exploded? Have you seen a line of Vorlons doing the cancan? Do the Narn and Centauri have warm, fuzzy relations now?” Ivanova replied sarcastically.

“No, not since the last time I had a drink, and I don't even want to _think_ about the relations the Narn and Centauri may have,” Garibaldi said with a grin.

“Only one way to find out,” Sinclair told them, standing up.

Garibaldi left first, Ivanova following, while Sinclair brought up the rear, pausing to grab the defective chips. As a result of his diverted attention, he almost ran straight into his second-in-command.

“I know we have a situation to deal wtih, but a moment of your time, Commander?” she asked.

Sinclair frowned. “Of course. Is everything okay?”

“Funny, I was just about to ask you the same question. You seem...distracted. Weary. I was just wondering if everything was alright.”

“Is it that obvious?”

Ivanova pretended to think about the question for a moment. “Only a little,” she replied with a smile.

Sinclair smiled back tiredly. “I haven't been sleeping well, that's all. I haven't slept properly since the incident with the Knights last month,” he admitted.

Ivanova studied him, choosing her words carefully. “That doesn't make you weak, sir. It's nothing to be ashamed of.”

“How did you...?” he began to ask, then shook his head. “Never mind.”

“Only you know what you went through, Commander. The rest of us can only guess. But you don't have to deal with the aftermath on your own.” She paused. “If you ever want to talk about it, you know where I am. I'm sure Mr Garibaldi would be your preferred choice....”

“For some things, yes. For this, no,” Sinclair interrupted. “I'll keep your offer in mind.”

Ivanova nodded. “Do. Until you do decide you want to talk, is there anything else I can do to help?”

He shook his head. “No, but thanks. We'd better go before Garibaldi really starts to miss us.” They walked out together, close but not touching. “I'd give anything for some proper coffee, though,” Sinclair added as they headed down the corridor.

Garibaldi was waiting for them outside C&C, his expression fairly neutral; it was obvious he had been kept waiting for some time but was choosing to pretend he hadn't. Sinclair just nodded at him, passing the defective chips back to him, and then entered C&C, Ivanova close behind the Commander, Garibaldi last as he put the chips into his pocket. Ivanova wanted to stay by Sinclair's side as he spoke to the senator, but Babylon 5 still had to run and so while he was dealing with the current situation, she tried to carry on as normal. But out of the corner of her eye, she watched at Sinclair conversed with Hidoshi, Garibaldi at his side. The discussion did not go as the Commander wanted it to, she could tell with the set of his shoulders, but then her attention was diverted to some new information on her console about the dockworkers.

“Commander, we have a problem,” Ivanova said, looking over her shoulder. Her eyes locked automatically with Sinclair's and he could see the apology there.

“Surprise surprise,” he muttered to Garibaldi, turning on his heel and walking up to her. “What is it?”

“We're up to our necks in waiting transports and suddenly the dockers are calling in sick,” Ivanova told him, anger creeping into her voice. Reading the concern in his expression correctly, she quickly continued. “It's not as serious as it sounds. Well, it is, but not sickness wise, because as far as we can tell, none of them are actually sick. They're just calling in sick.”

The three of them looked at each other in resignation, each officer understanding perfectly what it meant, but none actually wanting to believe the reality. Garibaldi was looking at the worst case scenario, which meant enforcing the rush act; Sinclair was thinking the same thing, as well as the trouble it was going to cause with the waiting and incoming transports, and the well being of the dockers; Ivanova just wanted to go and murder Connally, who she blamed squarely for the escalation to the problem.

Eventually, however, one of them had to break the silence. It was Sinclair. “Looks like we have an illegal strike on our hands.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova had just finishing telling the waiting ships to hold for the twelfth time in twenty minutes when Garibaldi walked onto the command deck. “Tell me you have some good news.” She knew that he had been present at the meeting Sinclair just had with Connally and she hoped that the Commander had managed to talk some sense into her, however unlikely she knew that possibility to be.

“The senate is sending a labour negotiator to sort the problem out,” Garibaldi said. “And as far as Ms Connally concerned, Sinclair is the evil figure in all of this. It's his fault the dockers don't have a decent budget.”

Ivanova scowled at him. “That's your idea of good news?”

“Yep. I've been taking lessons from you.”

She raised her eyebrows and almost smiled, but caught herself in time. “In that case, I commend your attitude. Keep up the hard work.” She paused. “Where's the Commander?”

“Not sleeping, if that's what you're thinking,” Garibaldi replied seriously.

“When is this negotiator due?” Ivanova asked, frowning.

“About twelve hours.”

“Then....”

“If I know Jeff, he'll be studying the budget from back to front, top to bottom and inside out to try and find a way to satisfy the dockers guild without annoying the senate too much. Plus he still has to catch up on the station reports; recycling, oxygen reclamation...you know how it is.”

Ivanova nodded glumly. “I just hope this all gets sorted before it gets even more out of hand.”

“So do I,” Garibaldi said before turning and walking off.

Ivanova checked the clock every five minutes from then on until the end of her shift, and as soon as it was over, she headed straight to Sinclair's quarters. “Come,” he said when she pressed the chimes.

She had it all ready, what she wanted to say when she saw him, but when her eyes rested on his face, all words went out of the nearest airlock. He looked worse than she had ever seen him, dark circles under his eyes, his five o'clock shadow almost black. The atmosphere was suddenly tense and Ivanova knew she should turn around and leave, but she didn't. Didn't really want to.

“You should get some sleep,” she said quietly.

“I've got too much to do,” Sinclair replied. He was still sat in his chair, jacket flung carelessly on the sofa, shirt sleeves rolled up, first few buttons undone. Ivanova tried not to notice the few dark curls of hair peeking out from the white folds of the shirt.

As Ivanova looked at him slumped wearily, she felt an overwhelming urge to touch him, a feeling she had never experienced so powerfully before. Sinclair regarded her from under hooded eyes, tiredness seeping into his bones but he was awake enough to recognise the atmosphere in the room. Realised what was going on, knew he should tell her to leave, but didn't want to. Suddenly the dream he had experienced before being kidnapped by the Knights came back to him, more real than the woman stood before him, then the images of her being killed over and over again began to flash before his eyes and he screwed them shut tightly.

“No.”

There was so much pain in that one word that Ivanova didn't even question her decision. She crossed the room quickly, standing behind his chair and putting her hands somewhat hesitantly on his shoulders. “It's alright. Whatever it is, it's alright.”

Slowly, she began to move her fingers in small circles, kneading the hard and knotted muscles beneath. The urge to slip her fingers under his shirt was powerful, but she held it in check. Sinclair felt her touch keenly, even through the fabric, and he forced the images from his mind, concentrating on the reality. Dreams couldn't hurt him, neither could memories; they only had power if he let them. Slowly he started to relax and as he did, he leant back in the chair. Ivanova carried on massaging his shoulders until his breathing evened out, like he had fallen asleep. Gently she moved her fingers to his temples, manipulating the veins beneath the skin, which felt as hard as copper wires. Finally, when she was sure he was sleeping, Ivanova ghosted her fingers over his hair, her touch as light as a breeze. She waited for a few moments, savouring the moments, before quietly leaving.

When he was alone, Sinclair opened his eyes. He hadn't wanted to pretend he was asleep, but if he hadn't, he wouldn't have let Ivanova leave. The connection he had felt between them was stronger than anything he had ever felt before, and he began to consider fate may have something going for it after all. He felt more relaxed and calmer than he had ever known, and he realised that he would probably sleep properly now, for a few hours at least, such was the gift Ivanova had given him. Standing, he moved himself to the sofa and stretched out, real sleep washing over him as soon as he closed his eyes.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair waited in the docking area for Zento to arrive, the stress of the imminent meeting completely negating the restfulness he had experienced thanks to Ivanova. He had slept well, if briefly, but upon waking the seriousness of the situation came crashing upon him. He had heard of Zento by reputation and disliked the man from that. When he saw him enter through customs, looking sharp and arrogant, Sinclair disliked him even less. The two men didn't shake hands, and as they walked, Zento outlined his requirements for his negotiations, which were thinly veiled commands.

When Ivanova took Sinclair's call in C&C, asking her to have Garibaldi report to briefing room three, she heard the stress in his voice with disappointment. She had hoped that her bold move would have at the very least worked, at the most lasted longer. Then when he asked her to request the presence of Ms Connally as well, Ivanova began to understand that nothing short of solving the crisis would work, which made her feel a little better.

Some hours later, Ivanova made her way to Sinclair's office. Though her shift ended some time ago, he had requested her presence. “I'm sorry to disturb you so late, Lieutenant Commander,” Sinclair said as she walked in the room.

She waved his apology aside. “That's alright. What is it, Commander?”

He gestured to the chair opposite him. “I just wanted to give you an update on the situation. Garibaldi has been present on and off all day, so he knows what's going on. I could have left a report for you, but there are two reasons I didn't. One, I'm too tired,” he admitted with a smile. “And two...I wanted to thank you for earlier. I slept like a baby afterwards, for a while at least.”

Ivanova relaxed, releasing tension in her shoulders she didn't even know she was holding. “You're welcome. And I'm glad. I was afraid it was an overly bold move....”

“It was, but it's not a problem,” Sinclair said. “Now, Orin Zento is the negotiator they've sent. Have you heard of him?”

“No. You?”

“Only by reputation,” he replied, and it was obvious he didn't like the man. “He's on a tight schedule, apparently, which means one of two things. One, he won't be staying too long.”

“Which is a good thing?” Ivanova asked.

Sinclair half-smiled at her. “Two, he may well run roughshod over the dockers just to get a result so he can leave for his next assignment on time.”

“Which would be a bad thing.” Ivanova sighed. “Isn't there anything we can do?”

“That's what I'm trying to find out. The dockers are bound by a legal contract, they can't quit and they can't go on strike. They have legitimate grievances but it's a no win situation for them.” Sinclair sat back in his chair and stretched a little. “I need you to send files pertaining to every aspect of the law regarding guilds and strikes to my quarters. I'd do it myself but....”

“Understood. It'll probably take all your energy just to find your quarters,” Ivanova said with a smile. “I'll take care of it. And try to get some more sleep, Commander. You're starting to scare the natives.”

“Good.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova took a deep breath and once again told all the waiting ships to hold. Her voice was flat, almost like that of the computer, but she made sure there was an undercurrent of steel so none of them would be so foolish as to try something...well, foolish. One accident was quite enough; any more stupid acts like that and she would be forced to deal with the situation in her own way. Ivanova glanced at the clock and sighed. She knew Sinclair was in his quarters, but doubted very much he was sleeping. She was trying to take as many other burdens from his shoulders as she could do, but there was only so much she could do for him, or only so much he would let her do. She started thinking that when the current crisis was over, and before the next one appeared, she would talk to him about giving her greater responsibilities; not that she wanted his job, although she wouldn't object to the promotion, but more she wanted to help, to learn. And she could think of no better person to learn from than Sinclair.

Glancing once more at the clock, Ivanova made a decision. “I have to run an errand,” she told one of the technicians. “I won't be long.”

She walked hurriedly, but not in an obvious way, heading first to the hydroponics garden and then to her quarters. She had been debating for some time now whether to tell Sinclair about her illegal plantar or not, especially after his increasingly frequent comments about wishing he could taste proper coffee. And with everything that was going on, she figured he would need it now more than any time.

Once the drink was brewed, Ivanova put it into a canister and proceeded down the corridor to Sinclair's quarters, but before she could sound the chimes, her link went off. “Yes?”

_“Lieutenant Commander, you'd better get up here,”_ a technician told her. _“There's been a development with the dockers guild.”_

Ivanova didn't like the sound of that at all. “I'll be right there.” She sighed and glanced at the canister in her hands. She had time to talk to Sinclair, to give him the coffee personally, but decided against it at the last minute. Instead, she turned on her heel and headed back up to C&C.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair sat in his quarters, the lights on low, his shirt half open and the sleeves rolled up, his eyes half shut, and he was almost constantly yawning. The words and numbers on the screen kept blurring together and he rubbed his eyes. He asked the computer what time it was for the seventh time in half an hour and still didn't register the answer. He was tired, completely bone weary, yet there wasn't an end to the crisis in sight, which meant no sleep for him. He supposed he could have asked Ivanova to take on more responsibilities, but in his mind, she wasn't quite ready. With some training, she could be ready very soon, and that brought him back to his worry about losing her.

His thoughts were interrupted by an angry call from Zento, informing him that the dockers had dropped their blue flu story and had declared an illegal strike. Sinclair jumped to his feet and swore under his breath. Why did he have to hear news like that second hand? Both Garibaldi and Ivanova were usually better informed that that, though it was hardly their fault. He tried to sooth Zento, but the negotiator wasn't having any of it. He ended the call with the threat of instituting the rush act, and Sinclair ran a hand through his hair. He'd kill for a shower as well, but it seemed that would also have to wait as the comm beeped again. It was G'Kar; another crisis, another threat, and the next thing he knew, Sinclair had agreed to meet the Narn ambassador in the council chambers. He rubbed the back of his neck and then brought his hand around to his face, wincing at the bristles on his cheek. He needed a shave. That would have to wait. Everything would have to wait. Pulling on his jacket, Sinclair headed out of his quarters.

And stopped.

On the floor, right outside his door, was a canister. He looked up and down the corridor but could see no one, and bent to pick it up with only a small amount of trepidation. It was slightly warm and when he shook it, he heard liquid inside. Sinclair hesitated only briefly before unscrewing the lid. The scent that drifted up was intoxicating and he felt himself going dizzy from it. Coffee. Honest-to-God proper coffee. He didn't even bother adding anything to it, just drank it straight from the flask and shuddered a little as the caffeine hit his system. Just what he needed. He was tempted to drink it all at once but decided against it. Coffee was so difficult to get hold of and he wanted to savour this treat. As he put the canister in his kitchen, Sinclair wondered who would have left him such a gift. He knew about the coffee plantar in the hydroponics garden - he had an illegal plantar of his own that was much better hidden - but he had still to decide whose it was. But that was a mystery for another time. Right now, he had an irate Narn ambassador to deal with.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

The meeting with G'Kar had been interesting, but had not gone particularly well. The following meeting with Londo had gone even worse, and then the meeting with Zento and Connally had resulted in the two of them screaming at each other with Zento threatening to invoke the rush act before storming off. Neither of them were willing to talk properly, or compromise even an inch on anything. It was more than frustrating for Sinclair and after it was all over, he headed up to the observation dome for a little normality and maybe even some peace and quiet.

It simply wasn't meant to be. The ISN reporter, Cramer, attached herself to Sinclair in a transport tube and followed him all the way to C&C, asking non-stop questions which he blatantly ignored. When he arrived in command, Ivanova looked as stress as he felt as she tried to handle the irate transport captains. She ignored the reporter as she gave him an update on the situation, which was pretty much the same as it had been for almost two says now.

“Tell them to wait. Tell them all to wait,” Sinclair said.

“That's what I have been doing, sir,” Ivanova replied, trying not to respond to the snappish tone in his voice. 

Then Londo and G'Kar appeared, arguing with each other and accusing each other of foul deeds. As Ivanova and Sinclair looked at each other, it was obvious they were both trying to control their tempers; it seemed to be simply a question of which one of them would explode first. Ivanova was just about to prevent such a situation from happening when Cramer chipped into the madness, and Sinclair snapped.

“That's enough!” he said, his voice rough with tiredness anger. Everyone on the command deck, even Ivanova, jumped and looked shocked. “Get the hell out of here. All of you. Now.” Sinclair took an obvious breath, then looked squarely at Ivanova, who was trying to hold her nerve. She had heard tales of how frightening he could be but never personally experienced it. Until now. And she was glad she hadn't found herself on the receiving end of his temper, at least not yet. “Lieutenant Commander Ivanova, in ten seconds you will escort any unauthorised persons still present to the brig, and leave them there.”

Under any other circumstances, she might have cracked a smile as the situation was quite humorous, what with the two ambassadors and the reporter all falling over themselves to escape quickly, while still trying to make threats. But she kept a straight face, putting on her most determined expression as she clasped her hands behind her back and began advancing menacingly on the unwanted guests, counting down as she went. By the count of three, only Earthforce personnel were present.

Garibaldi walked through the door just as Sinclair received another call from Hidoshi, informing him that the decision to invoke the rush act had been reached. Ivanova was back at her usual post, but she could hear what was going on and made a point of watching the Commander. She knew it was the last thing he wanted, but there was a glimmer of something else in his expression, like he had an idea forming. It was a look she recognised already, and she wondered what he was up to.

Garibaldi glanced at Ivanova briefly, his expression grim, before leaving to follow the unwanted order. Sinclair stared at the blank display for a long time before speaking. “Lieutenant Commander....”

Ivanova was by his side in seconds, possibly too close to be regulation, but she didn't care. He looked like he needed any and all the support he could get, however it was given. “Yes, sir?”

He hesitated before replying, looking down at her and attempting a smile. He knew what she was doing and he appreciated it, even if he couldn't say the words. And he knew if he told what he had in mind, she would do the leg work, so to speak, for him. But he wanted the decision to be his alone; there was going to be enough come back as it was.

“I need to see the full text of the senate order,” Sinclair said eventually.

Ivanova frowned a little, wondering why the long pause before answering, but also what he was planning. She knew, however, it would be unlikely she would find out until after the event, so she just nodded, said, “Yes, sir,” and got to work. 

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Through the network, Ivanova heard about the outcome of the enforcement of the rush act against the dockers and it hadn't gone how Zento planned at all. Still, Sinclair had stopped the strike and made the dockers happy, so all was well. For a while. She couldn't help but admire him that little bit more, knowing he had searched for the most peaceful solution, and not only that, but the right one as well. The budget did not allow enough money or resources for the commercial running of Babylon 5; all the senate back home could see was a military outpost. Which was true, and perhaps it was the station's first function, but without the trade and diplomatic functions which took place there, it would run up a huge deficit. Which no one at home seemed to realise. Yes, Sinclair had done well, not that he needed her praise, but she still offered it silently.

The door to the command deck opened and Ivanova hadn't turned fully before an outraged outburst from G'Kar reached her ears. “Lieutenant Commander Ivanova, this is intolerable! Ambassador Mollari has overstepped every boundary in every decent civilisation and I will not tolerate such insults any longer! I demand to speak to Commander Sinclair _now._ ”

Though Ivanova knew, in theory, she should have been afraid of G'Kar, she wasn't. He was all talk, or so it seemed, and she knew she was more than capable of taking care of him herself, but she also knew he would only deal with Sinclair. She opened her mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by the appearance of Londo.

“Ah, good, he is here. That means you won't have to go looking for him. Lieutenant Commander Ivanova, I demand you arrest this...this _creature_ for his childish acts of revenge and unhealthy slander against my good self.”

“I have had enough of you, Mollari!” G'Kar yelled, glaring at his nemesis.

“The galaxy would be a much nicer place if you were to disappear, G'Kar. Have you ever given that much thought?” Londo retorted.

Ivanova opened her mouth once more, but once again was interrupted. “You see? I should not have to put up with this behaviour! And I will not. I want to speak to Sinclair. Now.”

“If that is the case, I would also like to talk to him. I would like for him to hear a reasonable side of the story as well as an unreasonable one.”

G'Kar advanced on Londo, his red eyes gleaming with malicious intent, while Londo stood his ground and puffed his chest out, irritating the Narn ambassador even more. “Quiet! Both of you!” Ivanova shouted, glaring them into submission. “I will get Commander Sinclair to come and talk to you providing you can both wait for him in the council chambers quietly. No speaking, no hitting. Do you think you could both manage that?” She spoke clearly and with a forced smile, her whole manner insulting but neither ambassador wished to call her out about it. Instead they just nodded. “Good.” She looked from them to the door, her meaning quiet obvious, and they left hurriedly. Ivanova then glanced upwards, muttered a brief apology to God, and hit a button on the console. “Ivanova to Sinclair.”

_“Sinclair here.”_

His reply was delayed, his voice sounding like he had no energy left for anything and could probably fall asleep on his feet, and she hated having to disturb him over such a trivial matter. But she didn't have the authority to deal with Londo and G'Kar, and she knew she definitely had to speak to the Commander about that just as soon as time permitted it. “You'd better get up here.”

Sinclair sighed. _“What is it this time?”_ he asked in an exasperated tone.

“G'Kar and Londo are approximately half an inch from killing each other.”

_“On my way.”_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

As G'Kar left the council chambers, Sinclair let out a sigh of relief and pulled his jacket open as he leant against one of the units. He _was_ a cranky man when he was operating on very little sleep, it was very true, but sometimes it did the station's inhabitants good to see another side of him. He closed his eyes and put his head on one side, massaging his neck muscles carefully, mentally ticking things off his list as he tried to relax a little. Dockers problem sorted – check. G'Kar's problem sorted – check. Londo taken care of – check. Zento taken care of – check. Sort of. Everything was 'sort of'. Zento had been snubbed and Sinclair got a feeling he wouldn't like that at all. The solution to the problem with the dockers guild could easily be overturned by the senate, should they choose to disagree with Sinclair's decision. And as for Londo and G'Kar...well, he doubted there would ever be a truly satisfactory solution to that problem until they were both dead. A depressing, but somehow realistic outlook.

“I think I've been spending too much time around Ivanova,” he muttered to himself.

“I'll take that as a compliment.”

He was too weary to feel embarrassed or awkward; instead he just opened his eyes slowly and smiled at his second-in-command. “You sneak almost as well as Mr Garibaldi.”

Ivanova regarded him briefly before replying. “I'll take that as another compliment, Commander.” Her expression turned slightly sympathetic. “You must be feeling tired.”

“Like I could sleep through the fusion reactor exploding,” Sinclair admitted.

“That's what I thought. Which is why I brought you this.” Ivanova pulled a flask from behind her back.

“I knew it was you,” he replied, smiling. Then he gestured behind the table. “Sit.”

“Don't you want to go back to your quarters and sleep?” Ivanova asked him in surprise, then realised how she must have sounded. “That is.... I mean....”

Sinclair threw his head back and laughed, a deep reverberating laugh which washed away Ivanova's embarrassment. “I will, in a minute. Right now I'd like to sit and talk with you. Unless you're busy?”

“Not at all.”

“So, when were you going to tell me about your coffee plantar in the hydroponics garden?”

Ivanova stared at him. “How did you...? Did Garibaldi...?”

“You can spare Mr Garibaldi your wrath,” Sinclair said, holding his hand up. “I found it myself by accident a month or so after you arrived on the station.”

“I actually thought you already knew about, Commander, as it wasn't originally mine.” When he frowned in confusion, she continued. “Lieutenant Commander Takashima left it to me. I met her briefly the day I arrived. She was leaving on the same transport. She gave me some good advice and her coffee plantar.”

“I wondered how you had managed to grow such an established plant in such a short space of time.” He smiled. “I should have known really.”

Ivanova regarded him carefully. “Was she a good officer?”

“She was wilful, like you. But with less regard for the rules, and with less diplomacy than you and Garibaldi put together.”

“That's an achievement.”

“But in answer to your question, she was a good officer. But she wouldn't have enjoyed it here in the long run. Too mundane for her, I think,” Sinclair said.

Ivanova looked surprised. “Really? I think there's more going on here than anywhere else I've ever served.”

“Which is why you're perfect for the position.” He smiled at her again.

“Do you ever hear from her?” Ivanova asked. “Or Dr Kyle?”

Sinclair shook his head. “You know how it is. Officers are close when they serve together, but the minute you leave a posting, everything changes. I do check up on them from time to time, see how they're doing. Not that they're aware of it, of course, but I like to know they're happy.”

“That's important to you, isn't it?” Ivanova said. “Other people's happiness?”

Sinclair nodded gravely. “I think if more people thought that way, and practised compassion whenever possible, there would be no need for war.”

“And then we'd be out of a job,” Ivanova pointed out.

“True. But I still think there's more to life than fighting. There has to be.”

“And on that point, Commander, I think I should relieve you. When you start talking so philosophically, it's obvious you're over tired and need sleep. So I am ordering you to your quarters for at least eight hours and if I see you out and about before then, I shall have Mr Garibaldi put you under house arrest.”

Sinclair struggled to keep the smile off his face as he saluted. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

“Anything else, Lieutenant Commander?”

Ivanova thought about mentioning her desire to learn more diplomacy skills in order to ease some of his burden, but decided it wasn't the right time. “Only a small matter which really can wait, Commander.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Now go. Sleep. Drink coffee only when you wake up.”

Sinclair stood, weariness suddenly washing over him like a tidal wave. “I think I will. Good night, Lieutenant Commander.”

“Good morning, Commander.”

“And Ivanova?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Thank you.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair entered his quarters with obvious relief, putting the canister down on the kitchen counter carefully, absently noting the one which was there before was missing, which meant Ivanova had been into his quarters to retrieve it and refill it. Which didn't bother him one bit, and even if it did, he was too tired to let it show. He in the middle of pulling his jacket off when Ivanova called through.

_“I'm sorry to disturb you, Commander, but I thought you should know I'm holding all transmissions to you for the next eight hours at least.”_

Sinclair let the surprise register on his face. “Thank you, Lieutenant Commander.”

_“Unfortunately, you already have a call from Senator Hidoshi, and he will not wait until tomorrow. I tried to tell him you busy....”_

“That's alright, Ivanova. Put him through.”

Ivanova nodded curtly, her eyes lingering on his face briefly for some, before Hidoshi's image replaced hers. A short conversation with the senator later and Sinclair was ready for sleeping for a week, never mind eight hours. He glanced at the flask on the counter, already relishing the thought drinking it in the morning, despite the fact that it would have to be reheated and wouldn't taste as good as it would now, when fresh. It didn't matter. Ivanova's thoughtfulness struck a deep chord in him and he was very grateful to her for the small gesture. As he shed his clothe, he allowed thoughts of her to fill his head, yet all vanished as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Sinclair awoke a little over eight hours later feeling refreshed ad ready for work. After he had showered and shaved, he pulled his uniform on and wandered into the kitchen area. There, next to the first flask, sat a second with a note propped up against it.

_'Because there is no such thing as too much coffee,'_ he read out loud, then an addition had been hastily scribbled. _'You should change your pass code more often.'_

His surprise gave way to a warm smile. He knew Ivanova wouldn't abuse her knowledge, and he was certain if he checked the maintenance log for his quarters, he would see she literally came in and went straight back out again. Curiously it didn't bother him that she had entered his quarters while he had been sleeping, nor did it bother him he hadn't heard her, such was his trust in her. Instead, Sinclair opened the second flask, the coffee inside still steaming hot, and poured himself a cup. Breakfast would be, for once, a leisurely affair, but it seemed like something was missing. Lifting his hand up, he activated his link, contacting Ivanova.

_“Is there a problem, Commander?”_ she asked.

“I have too much coffee to drink by myself,” he replied. “Join me for breakfast?”

_“I'm on duty.”_

“And I'm the Commander. I can make it an order.” He paused. “I'd like to talk, if the offer is still open?”

Ivanova acted like she hadn't heard the second part, though he knew she had. _“Well, when you put it like that....”_ He could hear her smiling. _“I'll be there in ten minutes.”_

“I'll see you then.”

TBC


	12. 110 Deathwalker

_May 2258_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Garibaldi regarded his old friend from across the breakfast table in the mess hall. There was something out of place in his expression, his manner, yet the security chief couldn't place what it was. “You okay, Jeff?”

Sinclair nodded. “Fine.”

“You sure?”

He sighed. “It's Catherine.”

Garibaldi looked concerned. “Problems?”

“Long story.”

“I got time.”

“She's gone. Without a word to me, though I can't say I'm surprised.” Sinclair pushed his plate away. “The truth is, Michael, I don't care for Catherine that way any more. Yes, when she first showed up here we had dinner and we spent the night together, because it was all she wanted and I thought it would help. I'm not proud of myself for the way I acted....”

“Hey, we all make mistakes. You're only human too, you know...at least I think you are,” Garibaldi added with a smile.

“Thanks,” Sinclair said dryly.

“Did you tell Catherine any of that?”

“I tried to but then got called away to deal with the worker's guild, and then the Ironheart situation....”

Garibaldi nodded in understanding. “And then she left. And you haven't heard from her at all?”

“No. But to be fair, I haven't tried to contact her either.”

“You've been busy. The station won't run itself,” Garibaldi pointed out, then paused. “Jeff, I hope you don't mind me asking but...is there someone else?”

Sinclair looked at his friend for a long moment, opened his mouth to reply, and then glanced past him. “Good morning, Lieutenant Commander.”

“Commander. Chief,” Ivanova greeted them as she sat down.

“No offence, but you look like hell,” Garibaldi said to her.

“Have I ever mentioned how much I hate cheerful people in the morning?”

“Nope. Every other part of the day, yes, but you specifically left out mornings.”

Sinclair smiled at their banter, glad they had finally reached the point where they were so comfortable with each other. It had taken them both some time to get used to one another, so long, in fact, he had begun to wonder if there was some kind of problem between them. However, there was likely to be a problem between them if Garibaldi carried on teasing Ivanova the way he was doing, so Sinclair decided to intervene, steering the conversation to safer topics, hoping the security chief would take the gentle hint. As it turned out, there was no need.

“Garibaldi,” he said, answering his link.

_“Chief, we've got a serious problem in the customs area, recommend you get down ASAP,”_ Welch told him.

Garibaldi frowned. “On my way.” He looked apologetically at Sinclair and Ivanova. “I hate to eat and run.”

“Keep us posted, Chief,” Sinclair said.

“Will do. Probably something and nothing.”

“Didn't Officer Welch say it was serious?” Ivanova asked.

“Yeah, but to those guys, a broken transport tube is serious,” Garibaldi replied. “I'll let you know what happens anyway.”

Sinclair waited until the security chief was definitely out of the way before focussing his full attention on Ivanova. “Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

Ivanova was about to lie but at the last minute decided against it. “I haven't been sleeping well,” she said ruefully.

He nodded in understanding. “Anything particular on your mind?”

“Yes. But I don't want to talk about it.” She couldn't bring herself to tell him that her father had died earlier in the year and that she was now suffering terrible feelings of guilt for not going back for the funeral, for not trying harder to patch things up with him when he was alive, suffering the kind of nightmares that terrified her, but with no one to turn to.

“Fair enough.” Sinclair could see she needed to talk about it but wasn't willing to, something he understood well and respected. “Is there anything I can do?” he asked, not being able to help himself.

Ivanova smiled wearily and shook her head. “No, but thank you.”

“If you think of anything....”

“I'll let you know,” she promised.

Sinclair smiled back gently. “Good.”

“There is something I wanted to talk to you about, actually, Commander, while we're sat here doing not much else.”

“Go on.”

“I've been thinking I'd like to learn more diplomacy.”

Sinclair swallowed the teasing retort, though the mischief must have been obvious in his eyes because Ivanova glared at him. “Any particular reason?”

“When we had the problem with the dock workers a couple of weeks ago, we were also having problems with Ambassadors Mollari and G'Kar,” Ivanova said.

“When don't we have problems with those two?” Sinclair asked, rolling his eyes.

“True. But during that time I wasn't really much help at all,” she explained. “All I did was tell the transport captains to keep waiting. If I had a bit more experience in diplomatic matters and the like, I could have helped more. And it would help to talk some of the burden from you.”

“That's what I get paid for,” he said to her lightly.

“Yes, but not to run yourself into the ground.”

“A fair point.” He sat back in his chair. “Alright, I'll have a think about it and any situations I think you can handle, or that would be good training for you, I'll let you know.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ivanova said.

Once more, Sinclair was struck with a feeling of loss; once again he was certain that if Ivanova was still serving on the station in twelve months time, still his second-in-command, it would be nothing short of a minor miracle. And he found he was already steeling himself for the impending loss which hadn't occurred yet.

“I'd better be going. I've got a few meetings to attend to,” he said, standing. “I'll catch up with you in C&C in a couple of hours.”

With that, Sinclair nodded to Ivanova and left the mess hall, preoccupied with how he could help his second-in-command out. He would have helped her anyway, but after the aid she had given him a couple of weeks earlier, he felt he owed her a similar favour in return. There was no point in sending her coffee because he would have to steal it from her illegal plantar as it was. He didn't think she would appreciate a shoulder rub, and besides, he wasn't brave enough to chance it. At least not yet. He couldn't play any instruments which might lull her into a restful sleep either. He shook his head. _'Maybe I could read her a bedtime story,'_ he thought sarcastically.

“Commander!”

Sinclair slowed and turned. “Chief. Everything okay?”

“Not really. Seems Na'Toth went berserk in the customs area and attacked someone.”

“What?!”

“I know.”

“Do you have an ID on the victim?” Sinclair asked as they walked.

Garibaldi nodded. “Says she's a free trader from sector 47, Minbari space. Which fits. Minbari ship, Minbari clothes, Minbari ID, but she's no Minbari.”

“I know the Narns can be a...passionate people, but to attack someone like this....” Sinclair shook his head. “Did Na'Toth give any reason?”

“Not really. She was pretty furious when we hauled her in. Kept yelling one word. Deathwalker.”

Sinclair stopped suddenly and Garibaldi almost collided with him. “Deathwalker?” he repeated incredulously.

Garibaldi nodded grimly. “I thought you might remember that name. I know I do.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

After G'Kar and Na'Toth had left Sinclair's office, Garibaldi looked at his friend. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“You have a bad feeling about everything, Michael.”

“And I'm usually right. What do you want me to do now?” he asked.

“Go over every inch of her ship, find anything you can to give us a clue to her real identity, and perhaps why Na'Toth tried to kill her,” Sinclair replied. “And send Ivanova in. I want to brief her about what's going on, but in private.”

“Will do.”

A short while later, Ivanova appeared. “You wanted to see me, Commander?”

He smiled warmly as he always did when he saw her. “Yes. Have a seat, Lieutenant Commander. The situation Mr Garibaldi was called away to attend to could be more serious than we thought. How good is your recent history?”

“It depends. What do you want to know about?”

“Does the name Deathwalker mean anything to you?”

Ivanova looked surprised. “She was one of the most notorious leaders of the Dilgar. Specialising in biochemical warfare. She experimented on thousands, even millions of sentients, killing whole populations in the name of her research. Why?”

“Na'Toth attacked someone in customs, someone she kept calling Deathwalker.”

“That's impossible, Commander. Isn't it?” Ivanova asked, her expression shifting.

“I don't know.”

“Do you...remember the Dilgar war?” she inquired tentatively.

Sinclair shook his head. “Not really. But my grandfather flew in it. He never forgot what he saw.” His face took on a haunted look, and Ivanova knew instantly he was thinking of his own experiences in the Minbari war.

“What do we do?”

“Na'Toth is under house arrest for now,” Sinclair replied, snapping back to reality. “Garibaldi is checking into whether this really is Deathwalker or not. There is one other thing; her clothes, ID, the ship she arrived in and the sector of space she came from are all Minbari.”

Ivanova frowned. “Do you think there's some connection? I mean, if this woman really is Deathwalker....”

He sighed. “I know. For now, keep this to yourself. If any of the other races find out she's here....”

“Understood, sir. Anything else?”

“No. Dismissed, Lieutenant Commander.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair came out of his office looking like he could cheerfully murder someone, and a few minutes after he sat himself at his station on the command deck, Ivanova went up to him. “Problem, Commander?”

“You could say that.” He gestured opposite him. “Take a seat. I'll fill you in.”

“Is she Deathwalker?” Ivanova asked quietly.

“She's a Dilgar, that much I do know. Dr Franklin doesn't believe she can be Deathwalker, but Garibaldi found a uniform in the ship with the Dilgar rank of Warmaster on it, and the name plate read Jhadur.”

“Deathwalker.”

“Exactly.”

Ivanova shook her head. “But how? I mean, the Dilgar war was thirty years ago, she'd be much older by now if it were her.”

“That's what we're trying to find out,” Sinclair replied. “But I would bet good money that she really is Jhadur.”

“Why?” Ivanova asked him. “This wouldn't have anything to do with the call from Senator Hidoshi, would it?”

“How did you guess?” Sinclair said in a mildly sarcastic tone.

“Natural intuition.” She smiled. “What did he have to say?”

The Commander scowled as he spoke. “I have orders to send Jhadur to Earth immediately. It's a priority order, and I am on a need to know basis.”

“Ah. I wondered why you looked mad enough to chew planets when you walked in,” Ivanova said mildly. “Commander, I know it's not what you wanted, but you've been given an order. All you can do is follow through. This isn't your problem.”

“If anyone else on this station finds out she's here, we could have a riot on our hands. That _is_ my problem.”

“At the end of the day, you have to follow through on the orders. That's all there is to it.”

“If only it was that simple.”

“Make it that simple.” Ivanova looked at the display. “I don't want to be rude, Commander, but my shift is over and I would like to go to my quarters and sleep now.”

“Of course, Lieutenant Commander. Dismissed.” Sinclair resisted wishing her sweet dreams, but watched her leave until long after she was out of sight.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Not long after Ivanova had left, Sinclair received a communication from Franklin. _“Commander, the...patient is awake and asking to see you,”_ he said.

Sinclair had to smile at his scepticism. “I'll be right there, Doctor.”

Despite the potential seriousness of the situation, the Commander found himself in a reasonably good mood as he wandering through the station, nodding occasionally to people he knew. Even deflecting Londo's enquiries about Deathwalker couldn't dampen his mood; as he stepped in to the transport tube, Sinclair didn't even bother to wonder how the ambassador had known about their 'guest'. Despite tensions between the Narns and Centauri, if one race knew something, the other knew it soon after. In some ways, it was probably a good thing they were on opposite sides; working together they would truly be a force to be reckoned with.

However, soon after he entered the med lab, Sinclair found his mood deteriorating rapidly. As soon as she started speaking, there was no doubt in his mind that the woman before him was Jhadur, the war criminal Deathwalker. There was an overwhelming arrogance about her, an air of superiority that made his hackles rise. But when she explained what she was doing on Babylon 5, he felt a great conflict rise in him, and he knew with a great certainty that the situation could only end in tragedy despite his best efforts to prevent such a thing occurring.

After leaving med lab, Sinclair decided to stop by his quarters for a little while to get his head around everything, but when he finally stopped walking, he realised he was at Ivanova's. Without thinking, his feet had taken him there, rather than to his place. He wondered if she was sleeping or not; he wanted to talk to her, but was loath to disturb her. Taking a breath, he pressed the button, not surprised when she answered seconds later.

“It's Commander Sinclair.” The door opened instantly and he took the scene in with one look. “Don't get up,” he ordered her, holding his hand up.

Ivanova was dressed casually, lay on the sofa with her feet up, a book lay across her stomach. Music still played in the background and she looked up. “Computer, pause program.”

“You don't have to.”

“At least now I can hear what you're saying,” she replied. “Is there a problem, Commander?”

“Not as such. I've just come from med lab, I thought you should know what's happening instead of waiting until the morning.” Which was a poor excuse for 'I wanted to see you', but he didn't care.

Ivanova smiled warmly at him. “Sit. Please. Would you like a drink?”

Sinclair shook his head. “No, thanks. Technically I'm on duty....”

“But that's one of the perks of being in charge,” she teased him.

“It is.”

She watched as he eased himself into the chair opposite her and undid his jacket at the top. “Are you sure you're alright?”

Sinclair smiled at her, holding her gaze. “I should be asking you that. But yes, I'm fine. It's just this whole business....” He shook his head. “It's leaving a bad taste in my mouth.”

“I know what you mean. What developments have there been?”

“She is Deathwalker. It seems the Windswords have sheltered her for years.” He drifted for a moment as he thought about what else she said about the Windswords. _'Yes, the Windswords are right to fear you.... They say you have a hole in your mind....'_ “It also appears that the reason she left Minbar is to bring a miracle serum to all known planets.”

“And we believe her?” Ivanova asked incredulously.

“Apparently so. It would explain why she hasn't aged.” He sighed. “She says the serum retards the ageing process and prevents disease. Think about it, Susan. No fear of growing old, of being sick....”

“Of dying,” she said, a catch in her voice. “Virtual immortality.” She shook her head. “It's not right, Commander.”

“I don't like the idea any more than you do, but that's why the senate has ordered me to send her to Earth. It seems Deathwalker needs our help to mass produce the serum.”

“No wonder you looked like a walking thunder cloud when you came in,” Ivanova remarked.

Sinclair ignored her. “I thought you'd be asleep by now.”

“No such luck.”

“I was thinking, maybe I can help. After all, you helped me to rest during the dockers strike. I'd like to return the favour.”

Ivanova regarded him for a moment. “What did you have in mind?”

Several replies leapt to mind, but Sinclair ignored them all. “Are you familiar with Tennyson?”

“Not really.”

“Good. Lie back, close your eyes, and relax.”

He started talking, reciting all the Tennyson he could remember, his voice low, soft and melodic. The words came easy to him, and he found it relaxed him as well as hopefully relaxing Ivanova. He closed his eyes for a while, letting the power of the words take him, and when he finally opened them, he noticed her breathing was even and regular, and it looked very much to him like she was asleep. Standing, Sinclair looked around for a blanket or something to cover Ivanova with. Not that it was cold in her quarters, it was more a matter of comfort. Once he had found one, he draped it tenderly over her, gently brushing a lock of hair from her forehead.

“Jhadur also told me I have a hole in my mind; she's the second person in the last year to say that to me, and now I understand why.” He gazed at her and sighed. “I wish I could tell you more, Susan. I wish I could tell you everything. But it's too dangerous. I know you can take care of yourself, but this is different. I don't think I can protect myself, but I can protect you. Maybe in future I can tell you everything. I hope so.” Hesitating only a fraction, Sinclair bent down and brushed his lips against her forehead. “Sweet dreams.”

After the door had shut, Ivanova counted to twenty before groggily opening her eyes. When she heard the pain in his voice as he spoke to her, she had wanted to reach out and touch him, comfort him. She had wanted to tell him that there were things she too was keeping from him, that she also hoped one day she could tell him everything. That maybe in the future, things could be different for them. But not just yet. Sitting slowly, Ivanova clutched the blanket to her chest, stood and dragged herself into her bedroom, falling onto the mattress without changing and fell back to sleep instantly.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova entered Sinclair's office and nodded in greeting to him. “Commander.”

He looked up from his paperwork and smiled. “Lieutenant Commander. Sleep well?”

She nodded and smiled back. “I did. Thank you.”

“If you need to talk about anything, any time....”

Any further conversation was cut off by Franklin and Garibaldi entering the office, deep in discussion over something. “Moral and right are not always the same thing,” the chief of security insisted.

Franklin pulled a face. “What kind of talk is that? If it's right, it has to be moral and vice versa.”

Sinclair and Ivanova shared a look, both rolling their eyes at each other. “Gentlemen, thank you for coming. Maybe we can get started,” the Commander said.

They spent some time discussing the current situation, with Franklin explaining about the immortality serum Jhadur had promised them, and Garibaldi first of all denying it could exist, then getting on his high horse about the morality of Earth's decision. He was even more shocked that Sinclair was going to go along with the order, and that Ivanova backed him up. Franklin seemed content to just stay out of the discussion, and his expression gave away nothing of his thoughts; whether he agreed or disagreed with what was going on was unclear. As Garibaldi watched Sinclair and Ivanova looking at each other with greater frequency, he found himself getting more irritated. And when the Commander dismissed them, he found himself hanging back.

“Don't do this, Jeff,”

“Michael, I have to. I've been given strict orders.”

“Those orders stink!” Garibaldi snapped. “Have you forgotten who this woman is? The atrocities she committed?”

“No, I haven't forgotten, dammit!” Sinclair all but snarled back. “But what she's offering is surely worth something against what she has done.”

“Earth is practically aiding a war criminal and you're helping!”

Sinclair rounded on Garibaldi with a fury in his eyes that made the security chief back away. “If I disobey this order, they'll just send someone to collect her and relieve me of command. Is that what you want, Michael? Look, I don't like this any more than you do, but I don't have a choice. I wish to God I did.”

“Yeah, well you'd better pray to that God of yours that you're right about this. Because if any of the other ambassadors find out about this, they'll tear Babylon 5 apart.” With that, Garibaldi turned on his heel and walked out.

Sinclair glared at the spot where he had been standing, clenching and unclenching his fists, his breathing rapid and shallow. Suddenly he turned and began to pace his office in short, angry strides. “Can we really afford to have the floor of your office relaid, Commander?” Ivanova said mildly.

He stopped and turned to see her stood framed in the doorway, her hands clasped behind her back. “Probably not.”

“I take it Mr Garibaldi is not pleased with the developments.”

“That's putting it mildly.”

“Garibaldi is a good man with high set of morals, though sometimes I find his sense of ethics a little dubious,” Ivanova said. “In this case, he's right and I agree with him completely. But sometimes he forgets that you have to obey the chain of command. Yes, he is the chief of security and he has responsibilities, but his immediate superior is you. Sometimes I think he forgets that as soldiers, we have to follow orders no matter how distasteful they may be to us. He'll come around.”

“I hope so. In the mean time, I'm going to see Deathwalker off this station. The sooner she's gone, the sooner things can get back to normal,” Sinclair replied.

“Normal, Commander?” Ivanova asked, amused.

“What passes for it around here,” he said.

Ivanova rocked on her heels. “Let's also hope there are no more...complications.”

“There will be, Lieutenant Commander. There's always something.”

She looked at Sinclair with approval. “That's a very Russian attitude, sir. Well done.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“You were right, Commander. There's always something,” Ivanova said to Sinclair sometime later as they both stood on the command deck.

He had just appeared to inform her of the League's protestation of Jhadur leaving the station, and that he had called a council meeting for a vote on what should happen to Deathwalker. Apart from wanting Ivanova to know what was happening, he also wanted her to help make sure they weren't disturbed.

“Remind me again, what are the rules about killing ambassadors?” Sinclair asked her, staring out into space.

“I'm sure I reminded you of that not long ago. Have you forgotten again already?”

“Conveniently so.” He shook his head. “I really could murder G'Kar sometimes.”

“Talk with Londo, I'm sure he'd be happy to take care of the problem for you,” Ivanova said.

“Lieutenant Commander, such talk is highly inappropriate, however true it may be.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied. “Do you know how the voting will go?”

“Both the Narns and Centauri collaborated with the Dilgar at some point, so we can't count on their support. With my vote and hopefully the Minbari vote, the council will be deadlocked, giving the League the deciding vote,” Sinclair said.

Ivanova looked at him curiously. “How can you be sure the Minbari will support your vote? It was one of their own clans who sheltered Deathwalker after all.”

“True, but the Windswords are the most militant of the warrior caste. It's possible the Minbari government didn't know about Jhadur's presence.”

“Perhaps. But you'll forgive me if I don't share you positive outlook, Commander.”

“I'm not sure I share it either,” Sinclair replied before walking off.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

As Sinclair changed from his dress uniform back into his regular uniform, he debated about asking Ivanova to come to his quarters so he could brief her on the disastrous council meeting. He wasn't sure why but he wanted to keep her as up to date on what was happening as possible. Perhaps it was partly due to her request that morning to learn more diplomacy; keeping her abreast of developments almost as soon as they happened, rather than leaving a report, would help with her education, or so he hoped. But looking at it sensibly, he knew that spending too much time alone would be a bad idea. Not that either of them would break the regulations or jeopardise their careers, but what happened between them when they were near each other was more like a force of nature, difficult to ignore and with a mind of its own.

Instead, Sinclair finished fastening his jacket up and strode out of his quarters, heading to C&C. He had a feeling that the situation was only a nanosecond away from spinning completely out of control, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to wrestle that control back should the worst happen. As he stepped onto the observation deck, and Ivanova turned to look at him, his fears were confirmed.

“What's going on?” he asked as he walked up to her, standing as close to her shoulder as possible, seemingly without thinking.

“A Drazi ship came through the gate just a few moments ago, demanding extradition of Jhadur. From our reports, more League ships are on the way,” Ivanova replied. “I'm guessing the council meeting didn't go as planned?”

“Worse. It seems the Minbari government did know that the Windswords were sheltering Deathwalker and now can't bear the shame of admitting it,” Sinclair told her. “They abstained.”

“Great. Now what do we do?”

“I have an idea, but I need some time.” He gazed at her in such a way that the rest of C&C, the crew present, the space outside, all melted away. “Can you stall them?”

Ivanova nodded, trying not to look too dubious. “I can try.”

“Do it. I won't be long.”

She watched him go, wishing she knew what he was planning. He had that look again, that he had already figured how to solve the problem and wasn't going to share the answer with anyone until it was all over. She found she envied him, and wondered if it was natural ability or whether he had learnt the skills over time. And she wondered if she would ever be anywhere near as good at commanding and diplomacy as he was, and whether she could make him proud of her. As that thought passed through her mind, Ivanova realised the opportunity was in front of her to do just that.

Straightening, she clasped her hands behind her back and told a technician to open a channel to all the waiting ships. “This is Lieutenant Commander Susan Ivanova. Welcome to Babylon 5. How may I be of assistance?”

There was a brief pause, then all the captains of the ships started shouting at once, all demanding the same thing; that they turn Jhadur over to them. Ivanova let them carry on for a while as she structured her responses, then started on them slowly, her voice deceptively mild and friendly. She issued no threats, no promises, only level-headedness and calm deliberation. And the subtlety of an ion canon.

When Sinclair reappeared some time later, Ivanova was staring out into space with a pleased expression on her face. As he once again came to stand alongside her, he deliberately bumped her shoulder. “What's the situation?”

She glanced sideways at him and smiled briefly. “I've managed to get the ships' captains engaged in a debate as to who has the most claim over Jhadur.” Sinclair turned to fully face her, surprised by her approach but pleased nonetheless. But before he could comment, Ivanova continued. “The winner will be the first to attack.”

She was also looking at him properly now and both had to fight to contain their amusement; laughing at such a serious and tense situation would not do for the two ranking officers on the station, and both had to look away quickly.

“Creative,” Sinclair commented dryly. “Let's hope it buys us enough time.”

“For what?” Ivanova asked.

“Lieutenant Commander, the ships are moving out of firing range,” a tech informed her.

She turned slowly, folded her arms, and once again fixed her attention on Sinclair. “Okay, what did you do?” she asked curiously.

“I played a wild card,” he replied, turning his head to her. “I'll explain properly later. Right now I need you to stay on alert. We're not out of this yet. I'll be in closed sessions with the League for some time, I think.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sinclair walked a few paces, then turned back. “Good job, Lieutenant Commander.”

Ivanova just nodded in acknowledgement, then turned her attention back to the ships outside. She glanced back once, just to see if he had left, and found him framed in the doorway staring at her. It was a briefly awkward moment, both caught watching when they thought the other wouldn't notice, but then they both smiled at each other. Sinclair's expression was full of warm pride, and Ivanova's was a mirror of the same, both in herself and him.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Once he had finally made an agreement with the League, Sinclair headed to maximum security to meet Garibaldi and escort Jhadur off the station once and for all. As he walked, he tapped his link. “Sinclair to C&C.”

_“Online,”_ Ivanova replied.

“I've finished my meeting, it went according to plan. All the ships should be leaving any time now.”

Ivanova looked out of the view port just in time to see the jump gate being activated. _“Yes, sir, they've all gone.”_

“Good. I'm on my way to see Jhadur now. I'm putting her back on her ship and I want the jump gate sequence ready to be activated the minute she's off the station,” Sinclair said. “The sooner she's off Babylon 5, the happier we'll all be.”

_“Programming jump gate sequence now. Anything else, Commander?”_ Ivanova asked.

“Not right now, just keep me informed. Once Jhadur is off the station, Mr Garibaldi and I will be in the council chambers with all the ambassadors. I want to make sure everyone can see we're keeping our end of the bargain.”

_“Will do.”_

For a long time, it seemed, Ivanova just stared out of the observation dome, waiting for the Minbari flyer to appear, and as she watched, she wondered just what kind of a deal Sinclair had made with the League ambassadors. What could he have offered them? That after the serum had been reproduced, Earth would turn Deathwalker over to them for trial? That their scientists would be allowed to be involved in the development of the serum? It is what she would have done, having thought about it for some time. No doubt she would find out later, at some point. After what seemed like an eternity, a blue ship came into view and she glanced over her shoulder.

“Activate jump gate”

“Lieutenant Commander, there's something coming through the vortex,” a technician told her in surprise.

Ivanova turned back to look outside. “What? Who?”

“Silhouette looks like a Vorlon....”

The technician never got to finish as the Vorlon ship opened fire on Jhadur's flyer, destroying it instantly. Without any hesitation or word to the station, the Vorlons turned and went straight back through the jump gate Ivanova could only stare in shock at what had just happened.

“Oh, the Commander's going to love this,” she muttered to herself.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“They say God works in mysterious ways,” Sinclair said to Garibaldi as they sat at a bar, after Talia had expressed her concern over Kosh.

“Yeah, but he's a conman compared to the Vorlons,” the head of security replied.

“Sometimes I wonder if we really are progressing, evolving, or whether that old saying is true.”

“Which one?”

“The more things change, the more they stay the same.”

“Okay, if you're gonna turn all philosophical on me, I'm outta here,” Garibaldi said firmly.

Sinclair smiled. “”Don't you like intellectual conversation?”

“Yeah, as much as the next guy, but when you start going all mystical on me, it freaks me out.”

“Good.”

Garibaldi rolled his eyes in despair at his friend, but couldn't quite keep his face straight. “I thought Ivanova was going to join us.”

“I told her where we'd be,” Sinclair replied. “She said she'd be along as soon as she finished up.”

“I thought her shift ended a half hour ago.”

“It did, but you know what she's like.”

“You know, I always thought you were the most committed person to your career I'd ever seen,” Garibaldi said dryly. “Then I met Ivanova.”

“Why thank you for that compliment, Mr Garibaldi.”

The head of security pulled a face and turned round to greet Ivanova. “Hello, Lieutenant Commander.” He turned back to glare at Sinclair, who was smirking. “You couldn't have warned me she was there?” he asked his old friend.

“And spoil her fun?” He smiled at Ivanova. “Glad you could join us.”

“You want a drink?” Garibaldi asked her.

She looked at him. “You buying?”

“I guess.”

“In that case, I'll have...a coffee.”

Garibaldi rolled his eyes. “Wow, you really know how to push the boat out,” he remarked dryly.

Ivanova just smiled at him and laughed a little. “Well, after the day we've had, coffee will be just fine. Might let me keep a clear head.”

“Oh yeah, today was a doozy. You think there's any chance tomorrow will be any quieter?” the security chief wondered.

“Not likely, not they way our luck runs,” Ivanova said, then she looked at Sinclair. “I don't suppose the Vorlon government has issued a statement about what happened? Given any reasons?”

Sinclair shook his head. “Kosh came into the council chambers just before Jhadur's ship was destroyed. Afterwards, I asked him why and he just said we weren't ready for immortality. He might be right.”

Ivanova shook her head. “I don't get it. She made something that could have saved millions of lives....” Garibaldi and Sinclair looked at each other. “What?”

“I'll let you explain, Commander. You always were better with words.” The security chief stood. “If you'll excuse me, I have a few things to check on.”

Sinclair shook his head as his friend left, then explained everything that had happened, from his agreement with the League to Jhadur's revelation about how the serum was made. “The more I think about it, the more I'm sure the Vorlons did the right thing. I'm just not happy about the way they did it.”

“I didn't think you would be,” Ivanova said. She lowered her voice a little. “Do you ever wonder what will be next?”

Sinclair frowned. “What do you mean?”

“It just seems to be one thing after another. I know that's how outposts like this one can be, but sometimes...it feels like more than just another place. It feels like everyone is drawn here, and major incidents which normally wouldn't happen on an outpost like this seem to happen here.” She smiled ruefully. “Does that make any kind of sense?”

“It's like we're surrounded by destiny, for want of a better term. As though fate has brought us and everyone else to this place at this time.”

“Exactly.” Ivanova stared into her drink. “You know, it's funny, but I've never really believed in fate, or destiny. Until recently.”

Sinclair didn't ask what had happened to change her mind, though the question was on the tip of his tongue. “I wouldn't say I've always believed in fate or destiny, but I've always known there was something more out there.”

Each was aware the other was holding back, that there was more to say but it was being left unsaid. But it didn't bother either of them; they knew that in time, if the words were meant to be spoken, they would be.

From the other side of the Zocalo, remarkably unobtrusive, Kosh watched the two officers together for a while before moving off. Things were going according to plan.

TBC


	13. 111 Believers

_June 2258_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

It was, Ivanova decided, possibly as close to perfect as one could get. It was quiet on the station, had been really since the Deathwalker incident the previous month. As much as Ivanova liked the rush of having to deal with a crisis, she also realised how much she liked it when things were calm, running smoothly.... She sighed. Who was she kidding? It was about as far from perfect as was humanly possible. She hated it being so quiet, was bored out of her mind, although she had to admit it wasn't all bad. Behind her, at his usual station, his own corner office of the command deck, sat Sinclair, hunched over a console, his brow knitted in concentration. It was just the two of them, which made for a nice change, and although they hadn't spoken in almost an hour, Ivanova found the silence quite easy to endure, almost relaxing. In the glass of the observation dome, she could see his reflection and though it wasn't clear, she could study him without it being obvious. Or so she thought.

“You know it's rude to stare,” Sinclair said without looking up from his work.

Ivanova turned slowly in her chair, about to ask how he knew she was watching him, but changed her mind before she spoke. It wasn't the first time it had happened, and she doubted it would be the last. It irritated her as she could never figure out how he was doing it, but she was willing to let the mystery lie for the time being. “I suppose you want me to apologise, sir.”

He lifted his head and focussed on her. “Not at all. Did you find anything interesting out while you were...observing?”

“You hunch.”

Sinclair threw his head back and laughed. “And you frown too much.”

Ivanova stared at him incredulously. “And just how would you know that, Commander?”

“Intuition, Lieutenant Commander.” He smiled at her, his expression softening in a way it only seemed to do when she was around. “Are you sleeping any better?”

Ivanova nodded. “Yes, sir. Thank you. And you?”

He nodded as well. “Better.”

“But still not as well as you could be.”

“Just like you.”

Ivanova smiled in acknowledgement but didn't say anything more. For a while, they were content to just look at each other, as though memorising the other's face. Then her console beeped and she turned back to see what was happening. Sinclair didn't even continue watching her; he just turned his attention back to his own work, a smile on his face.

A moment later, she was stood in front of his console, her expression serious. “Commander, we've just received a distress call from the starliner Asimov. They've had a fire in command and control, navigation has gone, comm systems are barely functioning, but they've got the fire under control.”

“That's something,” Sinclair replied. “Where were they heading?”

“Here. But now they're flying blind.” There was more to it, and Ivanova could barely contain her excitement. Not over what had happened to the Asimov, but the potential for getting off the station for a while.

“Location?” Sinclair asked, looking at his console, ready to punch in the grid for reference.

Ivanova took a deep breath before replying as calmly as possible, “Grid 41 by 17.” Then she watched him closely to gauge his reaction; she didn't have to wait long. He had immediately drawn the same conclusion as she had, as she knew he would.

He looked at her, noticing a shift in her expression and something in her eyes he couldn't quite read. “That's Raider territory.”

Ivanova allowed herself a brief smile. “Exactly. Recommend we dispatch a fighter wing to escort the Asimov back here.”

“Agreed,” Sinclair said.

Her smile was now barely contained and he wondered what she was up to. “As a potential combat situation, it requires the presence of at least one command officer....”

He nodded, wondering why she was quoting the regs to him when he knew them so well, especially those concerning flying. “See if Garibaldi is available,” he said.

Ivanova couldn't stop her disappointment from registering on her face before turning away, and Sinclair caught it. In that moment, he understood her enthusiasm seconds before; she had wanted to go herself and he couldn't really blame her. He just wasn't prepared to let her go, and that worried him.

“Yes, sir,” Ivanova said stiffly as she walked away.

Sinclair knew he could have handled the situation easily by changing his mind, but something told him it would do her good to complain for a while, so he acted innocently. “What?”

She sighed and walked back towards him, and for a moment, he thought she would actually tell him the truth. But then she looked at him, and shook her head. “Never mind.” Her despondent attitude cut him deep and he berated himself wordlessly for his careless thinking. But before he could try to fix the situation, Ivanova spoke again. “I certainly have plenty to do here. Yes, sir, I think I'll walk to and fro for a while, then I'll walk fro and to just for the kick of it. Over to my console for a while....”

And that was it. She paced, she gestured, she griped, she practised her sarcasm, and all through it, Sinclair just watched in fond amusement. He stood from his 'office' and walked down to the railing, leaning on it while Ivanova continued her tirade. Finally she came to rest just a few feet from him and her expression was slightly apologetic.

“Does the term stir crazy ring a bell, Commander?” she asked in a fed up voice.

“Yes, it does, and I'm sorry I didn't think to send you. It's just....” He took a deep breath. “This is the first time you've been away from the station since you came aboard and...I'm worried for you.”

Ivanova looked deep into his eyes. “I appreciate your concern, Commander, but I'm a soldier. This is what I live for, to serve Earthforce and help others. Please don't hold me back.”

Sinclair nodded in understanding. “I promise I won't. And I don't mean to imply that I think you're not capable of handling yourself, that's not it at all.”

“I know. You don't want anything to happen to me.”

He could only nod in response. Once more they stared at each other for a while, then Sinclair smiled a little. “I have an idea, Lieutenant Commander, why don't you take out the fighter wing and escort the Asimov back here?” He tried to be serious about it, but it didn't quite work.

Ivanova drew herself up to her full height and straightened her uniform. “Well, if you insist, sir.” She nodded and walked past him, missing the smile that spread across his face. But she stopped in the doorway and turned. “Thank you... Commander.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova sat in her StarFury checking the consoles and displays while simultaneously trying to think of every possible outcome of the mission. Beside her, one other StarFury from Alpha wing was also prepping for launch, and she felt a shiver of thrill go through her at the thought of actually getting off the station and out into space.

_“Ready for launch, Alpha leader?”_ Sinclair asked, his voice crackling over the intercom.

Ivanova smiled. “Almost, Commander.”

_“Remember, Lieutenant Commander, just get in there, get the Asimov, and get back here.”_

Safe in the knowledge he couldn't see her, she rolled her eyes. “Yes, sir.”

_“Good hunting,”_ he said.

Moments later, two StarFuries exited the cobra bays and headed off into space, away from the station. As he watched the ships disappear through the vortex, Sinclair couldn't ignore the cold knot of fear forming in his stomach. He knew Ivanova was a damned good pilot, he had studied her record extensively before she arrived, and he knew from watching her conduct herself around the station that she could handle herself well. But still he worried about her.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair was trying to concentrate on the reports both Garibaldi and Franklin were giving him but it was tough, all because of Ivanova. For one thing, it just wasn't the same without her input, however depressing it could be at times, and for another thing, her absence was distracting him. He kept wondering how she was, even though it was a fairly standard, routine mission. The StarFuries would only break radio silence once they had located the Asimov, and even then, it would be a while before they could contact the station as they would be out of range.

Garibaldi was stood next to Sinclair, aware he was occupying the space that was usually Ivanova's, and also keenly aware of Sinclair's distraction, which was very unlike him. He also knew Franklin hadn't noticed the Commander's inattention, as he had his mind on other things, but Garibaldi could see the determined glint in the doctor's eyes that meant if Sinclair didn't wake up and pay attention, there was going to be an almighty argument akin to a nuclear explosion.

“How's the respiratory case?” he asked Franklin.

The doctor paused drinking, his expression grim. “He's going to die because the parents won't let me operate.”

Sinclair's head came up, his attention shifting from the papers he was signing to the man in front of him. Although this was the first he had heard about the situation, he could tell instantly from the expression on Franklin's face and the look in his eyes what he expected of himself, the Commander, and the station.

“The authority of Babylon 5 doesn't cover every contingency,” Sinclair said softly.

Garibaldi glanced at the doctor and then at the Commander, knowing that while it was a nice try, Franklin simply wasn't going to listen. And he didn't. He all but asked Sinclair to intervene and then proceeded to recite the incident with Kosh when he first came on board the station to back up his request. Garibaldi tried to mediate, but it just wasn't in his nature really, and Sinclair found himself wishing Ivanova was there more than before. The conversation ended with Franklin storming out of the office. Sinclair threw the pen on the desk and sat back in his chair.

“Well, that went well,” Garibaldi noted dryly, leaning against the desk.

“Hmm,” Sinclair said non-committally.

The head of security studied his friend for a moment. “She'll be fine.. Ivanova's tougher than either of us and you know it.” He moved his attention forward. “If I were you, Jeff, I'd be more worried she'd do something stupid.”

“That _is_ what I'm worried about,” he replied.

“If she does, she'll have learnt from the best.” Garibaldi looked back at Sinclair and smiled.

“Thanks...I think.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova swallowed and let out a breath. She had forgotten what the exit from hyperspace was like in a StarFury. After giving some brief orders to the other Alpha fighter, she let her thoughts wander slightly as they continued radio silence while they homed in on the Asimov's last known position. She found that although she was glad to get out of the station, she wasn't as happy as she thought she would be, and it puzzled her. This was what she had trained for, flying and combat situations, yet a part of her – a big part – longed to be back on Babylon 5. The answer was quite simple, glaring her in the face, but Ivanova still did not want to fully accept it. Six months she had been on board the station, six months it had taken her to accept so many things which were alien or unknown to her before, and the way it seemed to attract trouble was unbelievable. But she had coped, adapted, and actually come to enjoy it. She had gotten used to Garibaldi's quirky ways, had even come to rather enjoy his company, in small doses. Franklin, she had discovered, was a very deep person, and they had spent a number of hours discussing philosophy and culture, when their shifts allowed. But they weren't the reason she was missing the station.

It was Sinclair.

And as Ivanova flew, she wondered for a brief moment why she was fighting what seemed to be inevitable. She was attracted to him, she was certain he was attracted to her; the only thing standing between them was the uniform. But off duty.... She shook her head. She had gone down that path many times lately, had the same conversations with herself over and over again until she wanted to scream. They could be friends, nothing more.

And even though Ivanova kept repeating that to herself, she wondered why neither her head, her heart or her soul would accept it.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Franklin wasn't in med lab when Garibaldi stopped by, and he hovered for a few moments until an intern came by carrying a sheaf of papers. “Do you know where Dr Franklin is?” he asked.

The intern shook her head. “No, sorry. His shift just ended, so maybe he's gone back to his quarters.”

“Damn it. Okay, thanks.”

She nodded curtly, her expression harassed. “Excuse me,” she said, moving past him. “I have to deliver these reports to the Commander.”

Garibaldi turned to face her. “I'm heading that way, I can take them if you like.”

The intern hesitated, though her eyes clearly showed she would gladly allow him to save her the trouble. “I don't know....”

Garibaldi smiled at her. “Come on, I'm head of security. You can trust me. Besides, where's the point in the both of us going when only one of us needs to? And from the looks of, I've got more time on my hands than you do.”

“Well, when you put it like that....” She handed him the sheaf of papers. “Thanks.”

“Don't mention it.”

Garibaldi left med lab and was halfway to Sinclair's office when his curiosity got the better of him and he flicked through the reports, stopping when he reached the second to last one. As he read, his face fell.

“Oh, hell,” he muttered to himself. For a moment he wondered if he could simply forget about the reports, accidentally put them down somewhere and then forget where that was. And as much as he was tempted, he knew it just wouldn't have been right. With a sigh, Garibaldi started walking again. “The Commander's going to love this.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

_Commander personal log, June 16th 2258:_

'I thought things couldn't get any worse. I was wrong. Despite asking Dr Franklin to find another solution to the situation, a peaceful solution, he has submitted an official request to operate on the child, despite the parents' strong objections. They're not happy because they think I will rule in Dr Franklin's favour simply because he's human. I wish Ivanova was here. I know I could count on her to shine a realistic ray of scepticism on this situation.

'In a way, I agree with Dr Franklin. A child's life is at risk here, his death would be completely meaningless and needless as the operation is simple and standard. But I can also understand the parents' point of view. They believe that as soon as the body is cut open, the soul is lost and the body is then but a shell. It isn't some silly whim for them; it's real. And as they don't have an ambassador on board, I have to be their advocate as well. It's a mess. It's also funny, in a way. Ivanova said she wanted to have more of a diplomatic responsibility, then when something comes along like this, she isn't here. Typical. I wonder if she's found the Asimov yet, I hope she doesn't run into any trouble.

'What was it Dr Franklin said? God save us from false religions. That statement alone tells me this is going to be nothing but trouble, and most likely of his making. He's a good man, a good doctor, but he has a strong tendency to want to fix absolutely everything, and he doesn't know when to leave something alone. If Ivanova was here, I could leave her to deal with him; somehow I doubt he would cross her at all. Disobeying my orders, sure, if the cause was just. But going up against Ivanova? I'm not sure even Garibaldi's that crazy.

'I just wish I knew for sure, that's all. Knew for sure that whatever decision I make will be the right one for Shon, his parents, this station, Dr Franklin. But there's no way to please them all, no way that all of them will be happy with what I decide. But that doesn't matter. As long as it's the right choice made for the right reasons.'

Sinclair paused in his recording as he stood and poured himself another drink. There was something he was missing, he was sure of it. Something obvious. He sighed and ran a hand over his face, then massaged his neck. Sometimes he wished he had kept up his religious studies instead; he was certain that being a religious personage would be easier than commanding Babylon 5. Shaking his head, he returned to his comfy chair and resumed his log.

'After everything that's happened so far, I think that when Ivanova gets back, that might be a good time for us to have our meal together, so we can discuss things properly. It's as good an excuse as any.'

He smiled to himself and sipped his drink, allowing himself to be lost in his thoughts for a while. Suddenly he straightened, all thoughts of Ivanova gone.

'There is one person who hasn't given their opinion on any of this, and they are perhaps the most important person in this situation. Shon. What does he think of it all? Is he willing to risk the operation to save his life? Or does he believe as strongly as his parents? If Dr Franklin does perform surgery, we have to consider what we might be taking away from the child in the process of saving him. I doubt the parents have discussed his options with him, and somehow I don't think Dr Franklin will have either. Which leaves it up to me. But it has to be done. Shon's thoughts on this will be crucial to my decision.

'I wish Ivanova was here. End log.'

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Although she would never have admitted, especially not to Sinclair, Ivanova was bored. Despite the threat of Raiders, they hadn't seen any ships or picked up any transmissions from them whatsoever. It was like they were all alone in the night, and she found herself disappointed. True, it was great to get out into space, but she had hoped for a little more action. That was one of the reasons she had made such a big deal of going. Yet there was nothing. It was so simple and so routine, she could have cried. And the worst thing was, Sinclair would know straight away that the mission hadn't turned out quite how she had expected, and would probably tease her mercilessly about it. Ivanova sighed. She supposed it could be worse; she could have to put with Garibaldi saying 'I told you so' instead.

_“Alpha Six to Alpha Leader,”_ her wingman said. _“Picking up Raider transmissions, Lieutenant Commander.”_

“That's more like it,” Ivanova muttered to herself before hitting the comm button. “Alright, hit the afterburners, maximum thrust. They haven't spotted us yet, so with any luck we can reach the jumpgate before they notice we're here.”

_“Roger that.”_

Ivanova uncrossed her fingers and let out a slow breath. With any luck, the Raiders _would_ see them, and she would have to get into a fire fight to protect the Asimov. Nothing too serious, of course, but a little excitement would go a long way.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair prodded unenthusiastically at his food. He knew the principle of having to eat even if his appetite had deserted him, he just couldn't bring himself to actually do so. He still hadn't made it to med lab to talk to Shon and part of him did wonder if he was deliberately putting the task off. He didn't to rule in favour of the parents, because he too believed everyone should have a fair chance of life. But he didn't want to rule in favour of Dr Franklin because that would be seen as favouritism, and the doctor's persistence in the matter had irritated him. Really, what Sinclair wanted was for someone else to shoulder this particular burden but even Earthdome had passed the responsibility back to him.

“I think you might actually need the defence grid to take that out,” Garibaldi said as he came to a stop beside Sinclair, pointing at his food.

The Commander forced a weary smile. He was glad for Garibaldi's concern, but he wasn't the one Sinclair wanted to see and it was obvious the chief of security was aware of that. They discussed the situation and Garibaldi was surprisingly level-headed about the whole thing.

“Thanks, Michael,” Sinclair said, feeling marginally better after their discussion.

“Any time.”

“Still no word from Ivanova?”

“Nothing. She's still got time, though,” Garibaldi said. “If she's not back by tomorrow, then you can worry.” He paused and looked awkward. “Look, Jeff, I know we've talked about this before and you made your point clear....”

“But you've heard rumours and so you're going to ask me again,” Sinclair replied in exasperation. “The answer is the same as before, Michael. I would like to count Ivanova as a friend some day as well as my second-in-command. In order to do that, we have to spend some time together. It's no more than you or I have done in the past.”

Garibaldi held his hands up. “Okay, okay. I won't bring it up again.” He stood. “It'll be one hell of a debriefing session her.”

Sinclair nodded glumly. “I know.”

“What's your next move?”

The Commander pushed his tray away and pushed himself heavily to his feet. “Talk to Shon.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair's heart was heavy as he walked towards his office, where he knew Franklin would be waiting. The doctor hadn't been in med lab when he came out from seeing Shon, and he knew there was only one other place he would be at a time like this. He wasn't looking forward to the conversation he was about to have, but he knew it need to be done. Nearing the doorway to his office, Sinclair took a deep breath to prepare himself, shoved his hands deep in his pockets and walked in. Franklin was there, pacing agitatedly, and once again Sinclair was struck by how young the doctor was. He hoped that didn't equate to being too pig-headed about matters.

“Smart kid.”

Franklin was at his side in an instant, his expression hopeful, expectant, and it irritated Sinclair. “So you'll sign the order?”

The Commander sat down, drawing strength from the imaginary image of Ivanova stood at his left shoulder, as was her customary place when in his office. He could feel her calming presence, her desire to protect him, and he let out a deep breath. “And surgery is the only option. There's no other way to save Shon's life.”

Franklin also sat down, his elbows on his knees, his eyes bright. “There is no other way.”

As Sinclair studied him, he knew the doctor was certain he was going to rule in his favour, and he knew then he had made the right decision. Sighing, as though the weight of the station were on his back, the Commander bowed his head. “That makes the decision even harder.” He waited, but Franklin didn't break the silence. Eventually, Sinclair looked up. “I have to refuse to sign the order.”

What followed was an argument of galactic proportions which Sinclair had not foreseen, and he was surprised at Franklin's fervour over the matter. He showed utter disrespect for the Commander and the position he held on the station, for the situation he had found himself in, thanks partly to the doctor. He yelled, outraged, and all but accused Sinclair of not caring. Sinclair tried hard to keep his cool, to watch his temper, but it didn't work. He had never known Franklin to be so unreasonable, and he was on the verge of relieving him from duty when the doctor's link went off, Hernandez calling him to med lab urgently. Franklin gave Sinclair one last parting glare before striding off, leaving the Commander stood fuming in the middle of the corridor.

He started walking, not sure where he was going and not really caring, until he came to a stop outside quarters that were not his own. Sinclair sighed as he stared at Ivanova's door. She wasn't there. She wasn't there when he needed her, and right now he needed her more than anyone else he had ever needed before. Needed her to calm him down, or to take on Franklin herself. He needed her and she wasn't there, and with a heavy heart, he walked away, wondering if it was an omen for things to come.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova, however, wasn't giving Sinclair a second thought at that moment in time; she was too busy deciding what to do. They had picked up a raider scout but were still an hour from the jumpgate. She had ordered Alpha Six to jam its signal, but then the raider ship had broken away, and Alpha Six had asked what her orders were. Protocol told her to stay with the Asimov and continue escorting her; instinct told her to follow the Raider and engage. Ivanova knew the longer she debated the issue, the greater the chance of them being attacked.

“Alright,” she said eventually. “The ship is probably trying to get out of our jamming range to contact other ships. We can't let that happen. You stay with the Asimov, I'll take out the raider.”

_“Negative, violation of orders,”_ Alpha Six replied.

But Ivanova was already moving. “To hell with orders, if we stay here, we'll all be dead. Get going, I'll catch up.” And with that, she headed off in pursuit.

Now she was happy. The thrill of the chase, the excitement and the danger, this was what being a soldier was all about. What being a pilot was all about. And a little part of her hoped that once Sinclair had yelled at her, as duty demanded, he would be proud of her. She hoped. The Raider was still a way ahead of her, but she was gaining quickly.

“Come on, come on,” Ivanova said, encouraging her StarFury to go faster, not that it made any difference but she did it anyway. As soon as the Raider was in range, she hit the firing controls, exclaiming, “Yes! Good!” when it was destroyed. Grinning broadly, very pleased with herself, Ivanova was about to turn back when another ship appeared on her sensors...quickly followed by a lot more. At least a dozen Raider ships, all heading her way. “Not good,” she amended, and though it galled her to do it, she turned and retreated as fast as she could.

No longer was she wanting to make Sinclair proud of her; now Ivanova just wanted to make it back to the station alive, to see his face again and hear his voice one more time. Maybe even to tell him how she felt about it. She found she did not want to die in the cold of space before at least doing that, and pushed the thrusters to maximum.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair was sat in his office staring at the wall opposite. Circles and triangles that didn't mean anything to him yet meant everything to him. He didn't understand it, yet was constantly drawn to it, as though he should know what it meant but didn't. It was strange, but whenever he looked at it, he thought of Ivanova, and he wondered if she had run into trouble. There was a cold knot in his stomach which told him something terrible was about to happen, but about what he couldn't sat

He heard footfalls and turned to look at the doorway just as Garibaldi entered the office, his expression grim. “What is it, Chief?” Sinclair asked, cold washing over him.

“It's about the kid, the respiratory case.”

“Is he dead?” Sinclair's voice was quiet, sorrowful, but in a way, if that was the news being brought to him, he would be a little relieved.

Garibaldi shook his head, and the Commander noticed an extreme tightness in his features. “No, he's alive.”

“Then what...?”

“He's alive and even healthier than before,” Garibaldi stated, interrupting his friend.

Sinclair frowned. “What do you...?” He trailed off and his expression darkened. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet and deadly. “What happened, Michael?”

Garibaldi swallowed. Even though the anger was directed at him, he felt it, and he hoped that Franklin would have the good sense to act humble and apologise and not push his luck when he was invariably hauled into Sinclair's office. “Dr Franklin operated on him, against your orders. The parents are outraged, not against you, against him. They haven't said anything yet, but this is going to get ugly, Jeff.”

“I want to see Dr Franklin in my office _now_ ,” Sinclair all but growled.

“He'll be here even if I have to drag him by his ears,” Garibaldi promised, quickly leaving.

The Commander began to pace in an agitated manner, his fury barely surprised. Light years away, Ivanova suddenly paused in her impressive evasive manoeuvres as she tried to escape the Raiders. A feeling of anger like she had never known before washed over her and she temporarily lost control of her fighter. She didn't understand where it had come from, but didn't have time to analyse it properly as the Raiders were converging on her quickly. Back in his office, Sinclair paused in his pacing, a sense of imminent danger filling his mind, and he frowned. He wasn't the one in trouble, yet it was a feeling he couldn't shake and he wondered where it had come from. But he didn't have much time to think on it as Franklin walked into his office.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Sinclair exploded. Franklin stopped in his tracks and stared at the Commander in surprise. “I gave you a direct order, Doctor, and you disobeyed it. I should ask for your resignation right here, right now.” He was all but growling again, snarling his way around the words and for once, he didn't even want to control his temper.

Franklin was still staring at him agog, but his expression soon shifted to one of indignant, righteous anger, and things went rapidly downhill from there. The doctor refused to admit he had done anything wrong and his smugness only agitated Sinclair further. He actually found himself contemplating throwing him off the station, and through the red haze of anger came a sudden thought that he was actually glad Ivanova wasn't there. Sinclair had been operating under the belief she would automatically agree with him; what if that wasn't the case? What if she actually agreed with the doctor? He doubted it, and even if that was the case, orders were orders, and Ivanova would be just as annoyed at Franklin for disobeying. Sinclair's presumption over what his second-in-command would do only served to push his rage higher, and just when he was about to punch Franklin into the next sector, Dr Hernandez contacted them.

_“I think you should both come to med lab,”_ she said to Sinclair, her expression grave.

“On our way,” he replied, turning to see Franklin had already left, which suited him just fine. He didn't relish having to actually walk with him to med lab.

As he walked alone, Sinclair used the time to calm himself as best he could and once more push thoughts of Ivanova from his mind. It seemed, though, that every time he did that, she would then fill his thoughts even more completely than before.

He caught up with Franklin just outside med lab and they entered together to see Shon stood with his parents. Sinclair heard them say they understood why the doctor had done what he had done, and that they would take Shon away. The Commander frowned, trying harder to clear the haze of his anger to concentrate on what was happening. Something was seriously wrong, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was. Franklin, however, looked even more smug than before, and after they had gone, he stared expectantly at Sinclair, who just glared back.

“I'm waiting,” the doctor said. Sinclair continued to glare. “For an apology.”

Any calm he had found went completely out of the nearest airlock at that statement. “You'd better check the temperature in hell first,” he replied, storming out of med lab before he was court marshalled for murdered the chief of medical staff.

But instead of going back to his office, Sinclair headed to his quarters. The feeling that something was wrong overrode his fury and he wanted to check a few points on the story of the egg and the religion of Shon and his parents. A few things Shon had told him in their discussion made Sinclair consider a very real and nasty prospect, and the way the parents had suddenly given in so easily and calmly...almost meekly. It didn't make sense. Until he came across the travelling robe....

“Sinclair to Garibaldi,” he said, stabbing his link.

_“Garibaldi here. What's up, Commander?”_ the security chief replied, picking up on the urgency in his friend's voice.

“Meet me in the alien sector ASAP!” Sinclair had already severed communications and was running out of his quarters before Garibaldi could ask anything else.

But they were too late. They entered the quarters where Shon and his parents had been staying to find Franklin on the floor in tears, and the parents sat either side of a bed which held Shon's lifeless body. Garibaldi took the scene in with one glance.

“It's your call, Commander,” he said in a tight voice. “What do you want me to do?”

Sinclair gritted his teeth together so hard that his jaw hurt. “Let them go. Just...let them go.”

He didn't even look at Franklin as he turned on his heel and strode away, he couldn't. He had no words of comfort to offer the doctor, had nothing to say that would make the situation any better or change it. Instead he just went straight back to his quarters, sank into his chair, and put his head in his hands.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

It was several hours later when Sinclair emerged from his quarters, more in control of himself but infinitely weary, and the first thing he did was go in search of Franklin. It wasn't what he wanted to do; his deepest instincts told him to go to the customs area and await the return of Ivanova. After everything that had happened, he had finally resolved to surrender himself to fate because no matter how hard he tried to convince himself otherwise destiny kept pushing him in the direction it wanted him to go, and that seemed to be towards Ivanova.

They had received word not long ago that they were safely en route to Babylon 5 with the Asimov and should be there shortly. On any other day, Sinclair would have waited in the docking area to see Ivanova, to make sure with his own eyes that she was okay. But not today. There was something far more important that needed to be done, dictated by the responsibility of command and his own sense of duty.

He found Franklin in the Zen garden, looking as dejected and upset as Sinclair had ever seen another person. He wasn't even sure the doctor would talk to him, but he wasn't leaving without at least making an effort. He loitered in the entrance for a moment before walking in and sitting next to Franklin, waiting in silence for a few moments, to see if the doctor would make the first move or not. He did.

“If you want my resignation, you can have it. I admit that I was wrong, I was arrogant. I thought I could fix everything and that I knew everything.”

Sinclair found himself relaxing somewhat. That statement alone showed him there was some hope for the young doctor, and it also showed him had made the right decision. “I've decided not to ask for it. This time.”

Beside him, Franklin also relaxed. “You know, maybe we'd be better off if God had never been invented.”

Sinclair looked at him briefly, while drawing on his own thoughts and beliefs and experiences, before speaking. He didn't remember the words afterwards, just knew he had to try and reach Franklin somehow. The doctor was in a dark place, one Sinclair had experienced many times, and if he didn't make it out, he would be lost forever. That he would be changed was obvious, inevitable, and maybe essential, but Sinclair wasn't about to let Franklin wallow forever in self pity. He felt some of his words got through, but the rest would just be time. With that realisation, he pushed himself heavily to his feet and walked out of the garden, leaving Franklin alone with his thoughts. And even though he knew Ivanova would have returned to the station by now, Sinclair didn't go looking for her. In a place that housed a quarter of a million people, he tried to find a little quiet and solitude for himself.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova changed back into her uniform slowly. She didn't doubt that she had done a good job, but she also didn't doubt that she was going to catch seven kinds of hell over her conduct from Sinclair and she wasn't relishing the thought of that meeting. Still pulling her jacket on, she left the locker room and headed out into the customs area, half-expecting, half-wishing to see Sinclair waiting for her, and trying not to be disappointed when she say Garibaldi stood there, his hands in his pockets.

“So, what happened?” he asked.

Ivanova did up her cuffs and zipped up her jacket. “Nothing,” she replied, trying to look confused over the question, and innocent, which didn't work.

Garibaldi raised an eyebrow and then told her what he knew. Ivanova stared at him, realised he was complimenting her in his own way, and smiled back guiltily. His reaction gave her a good indicator of what Sinclair would do as well, which lifted her spirits.

“It was an education risk,” Ivanova admitted, and Garibaldi grinned at her. “It's good when it works out.” Together they watched a child leaving the Asimov and being reunited with his waiting parents. The image made Ivanova's smile grow and made her feel proud for the position she occupied, and the uniform she wore. But then she glanced at Garibaldi and saw his expression had become serious.

“And sometimes it goes wrong,” he said, then noticed her scrutiny. “Come on, I'll fill you in.”

“What happened?” Ivanova asked as they walked out of the customs area.

As briefly as he could, Garibaldi told her of the events that had transpired, from Shon's condition being diagnosed to Franklin's decision to operate despite Sinclair's orders not to. “I don't think Jeff'll fire him, but right now, I'm not sure. He was mad as hell.”

“I can imagine,” Ivanova replied. “Have you spoken to Dr Franklin yet?”

Garibaldi shook his head. “No. To be honest, I wouldn't know what to say. In my book, it was a tough call, for everyone. He made a decision he thought to be right, it ended up being wrong. What else is there to say? He'll either learn from this or he won't.”

“And the Commander?”

“He'll go on because he has to.”

Ivanova looked sideways at Garibaldi. “That isn't much of an answer.”

“I know, but it's the only one you're getting. At times like these, I've learnt to just leave the Commander well alone.” The security chief shrugged. “But maybe you might have more luck talking to him.”

Ivanova ignored the implications. “I doubt it.” She stopped, and put her hand briefly on Garibaldi's arm. “If you'll excuse me, Chief, there's a few things I need to do.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

After talking to Franklin for a little while, and making sure he was truly alright before leaving him, Ivanova had the idea of heading back to her quarters to take a shower and get some rest, but she found herself stood outside Sinclair's door instead. She tilted her head to one side and massaged her neck. It probably wasn't a good idea to disturb him; he was probably still processing everything that had happened, and if he knew she had broken the regulations and put herself in danger, she was pretty sure his fury would reappear like a phoenix rising from the ashes, and she didn't want to upset or anger him any further. It had been a stressful enough day for him as it was. Yet Ivanova found her finger pressing the comm by his door of its own accord and she cursed herself. But there was no reply from within. Unbidden, her fingers pressed the button again. Nothing. Shrugging, Ivanova turned on her heel and started towards her own quarters, but when she reached the door, she carried straight on. As she walked, she rolled her eyes; it seemed her body wasn't listening to her mind for some reason. Sinclair wasn't in the Zen Garden either, and she decided to have one last shot at finding him by going through the Zocalo. If he wasn't there, then any discussing, updating, and berating could wait until tomorrow.

But he was there, sat in a secluded corner, staring into the cup in front of him, his fingers playing absently with the handle. For a short while, Ivanova was content to watch him from a distance, but then Sinclair raised his head, as though he knew he was being watched, and instantly his eyes locked with hers, as though he knew exactly where to find her. For a moment they just stared at each other, then Sinclair inclined his head towards the chair opposite. Ivanova took the invitation and walked over to the table.

“I just thought I'd see how you were doing,” she said without preamble.

He was surprised, though didn't show it. Instead, he gave a wan smile and replied, “And you wanted to see how much trouble you'd be in for breaking regulations.”

Ivanova pulled a face. “I see Mr Garibaldi is efficient at passing on good news.”

Sinclair laughed briefly, but then leant forward, his elbows on the table. “Susan,” he said in a quiet voice, “I understand what you did, and it was a good call, but it was dangerous.” She started to reply but he held his hand up. “I know I've done worse in the past, and recently too. And in the same position, I would have done the same. But...promise me you won't put yourself in danger like that again.”

“I can't make that promise, Commander. As a soldier....”

“I'm not talking about combat, I'm talking about every day life. I made you a similar promise not long ago, and so far, I've kept it,” Sinclair reminded her.

Ivanova was about to argue with him, but then she paused and saw the genuine concern on his face. It touched a deep chord in her, made her feel like she finally truly belonged somewhere, and before she knew it, she nodded. “Alright. I promise.”

He smiled at her and moved his hands, as if to reach across to her, but instead he let them fall from the table to his thighs. “How many Raiders were there?”

Ivanova shrugged nonchalantly. “All that matters is that there are a few less now.”

“That must have been some fancy flying to escape more than a dozen enemy ships,” Sinclair said, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

“How did you...?” She stopped and shook her head. “Never mind.”

“Seems to be the day for disobeying orders.”

Ivanova searched his face, looking for any sign of recrimination or disappointment, but there was nothing, just a simple statement of fact. “Garibaldi told me what happened with Dr Franklin,” she said quietly. “That's why I wanted to see you.”

“I'm fine,” Sinclair replied.

“Fine fine, or 'fine because I have to be' fine?” Ivanova asked.

Sinclair smiled ruefully. “The second one,” he admitted. “It was just a tough decision, that's all. Nothing time won't heal, for us at least.”

“What about Dr Franklin?”

“I don't think he'll ever be the same again.”

“That might not be a bad thing,” Ivanova said. “If we learn from our mistakes, it means we won't repeat them again.”

“Maybe.” Sinclair stared into his cup again. “It's not just the death of the child, it was Franklin's attitude throughout the whole situation. I know he's enthusiastic and I know he values the lives of his patients, but I never thought he would disobey a direct order like that. He offered his resignation, and although I didn't take it, now I'm wondering whether I should have. I can't have someone on my senior staff who'll just go off on one like that.”

Ivanova took a deep breath before speaking. “You place a great deal of trust in people, Commander, and Dr Franklin broke that trust. But he was just doing what he thought was best. Sometimes everyone can see that, sometimes only a few or even no one else can see it. Sometimes doing what is right can turn you into the bad guy. You were doing what you thought was right based on the facts you had, and the parents thought they were doing the right thing as well. It was a tough situation which would never have had a happy ending whichever way you look at it. Give Dr Franklin another chance. He's still young enough to grow out of these...impulses.”

Sinclair looked at her, slightly amused. “He's older than you, Lieutenant Commander.”

“Yes, but I'm Russian, Commander. We're born old.”

“It seems like lately, all I seem to do is thank you,” he said in a quiet voice.

“I see nothing wrong with that,” she replied.

Sinclair rolled his eyes. “Somehow I didn't think you would. But....” He paused, unsure how to phrase what he wanted to say, or even whether he should say it or not. “I'd like you to stop by my quarters for dinner one evening. I'm no gourmet cook like Mr Garibaldi, but I can throw together a decent meal. It'll give us a chance to talk properly about your increased responsibilities on the station, without any interruptions. At least until the officers' club is finished.”

“And when will that be, sir?” Ivanova asked in amused innocence.

“The day after the sun explodes,” he replied dryly.

Ivanova smiled, then her expression became distant as she lost herself in thought. She would like nothing more than to accept Sinclair's invitation, but she knew it wasn't that simple. If she did accept, it would have to be for the right reasons, not just because she enjoyed his company. But he had already taken care of that for her, she realised; he didn't really want civilians knowing about station procedures and so their quarters were the only places they could really talk in a relaxed manner and privately. It was a thin reason, but Ivanova found she didn't care.

“Alright. When?”

“That's a good question. When we're not in the middle of a crisis,” Sinclair said wryly. “And when we're both off duty at the same time.”

“I think that happens in a few days time.” She frowned in concentration. “I can let you know tomorrow.”

“Alright.” Sinclair drained his cup of very cold coffee, then his face fell. “I am so sorry, Lieutenant Commander, I never asked if you wanted a drink.”

Ivanova smiled. “It's fine, Commander. Really. I was actually on my way to my quarters to sleep, but I just thought I'd....”

“See how I was doing. And I appreciate that.” Sinclair smiled back. “Walk with me, Susan.”

“Sir?”

“I'm heading in the same direction, so we might as well go together.”

Once again, Ivanova couldn't think of a single reason to refuse, so she fell into step next to him, the silence that stretched between them one of ease, and when she reached her quarters, no words were spoken still, but deliberately, she thought, Sinclair brushed her hand with his as he carried on down the corridor to his own rooms.

TBC


	14. 112 Survivors

_June 2258_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova found herself in a rare good mood as she entered Sinclair's office. Things on the station had been far from quiet since the Raider incident and the situation with the alien boy, but there was a stability in the chaos. Franklin seemed to have returned to his normal positive self, and Ivanova and he had started sharing breakfasts and coffees when their schedules permitted. He seemed to appreciate her support during the incident with Shon, and he also found he could talk to her easily about Sinclair, which in turn helped him to understand the Commander better. Ivanova enjoyed her time with Franklin because it allowed her to talk about Sinclair without anyone raising any eyebrows, and she found him to be stimulating company.

“Lieutenant Commander,” Sinclair greeted her.

She nodded back. “Commander.” As she sat down, she marvelled once again how warm his eyes were when he looked at her. She was still waiting for the dinner invitation, but wasn't worried in the least that she hadn't received it yet. She knew that when the time was right, they would have some time together, and regardless of how it turned out, she would enjoy every moment of it.

“The President is making a visit to Babylon 5 to personally deliver a new wing of StarFuries,” he told her.

“About time,” Ivanova said dryly. “We should have had them...what? Last year?”

“I know, but it's better late than never. Unfortunately....”

“The Cobra bays haven't been properly maintained and need a lot of work before we can accept any new ships.” Ivanova allowed herself a smile at Sinclair's surprised expression. “What? You and Mr Garibaldi aren't the only ones who keep a close eye on what's happening on this station.” She sighed. “Ms Connally isn't going to be happy. The crews are going to have to work overtime with substandard equipment just to get them up to scratch.” She then fixed him with a look of pure dread. “How long do we have?”

Sinclair smiled wryly. “That's the fun part. Four days.”

“Four days?” Ivanova repeated, her eyes wide. “Then Ms Connally not being happy was a mild understatement.”

“I know.”

For some reason, Sinclair's direct silent gaze sent thrills through Ivanova rather than distressing her. “Go on,” she said to him, smiling again.

“I'd like you to handle the arrangements. I'm going to be busy setting up the reception for the President and talking to all the ambassadors, so if you could take care of that for me....”

“No problem.” Knowing the conversation was at an end, Ivanova stood. “And here I was thinking you were going to give me a difficult assignment, Commander.”

Four days later, just as she and Garibaldi narrowly missed being caught in an explosion, Ivanova was beginning to revise that statement.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair was in C&C when he felt the station rock violently. “What the hell...?” he asked. “Is everyone alright?”

“Yes, sir,” was the general consensus, then one of the technicians said, “Commander, there has been an explosion in on of the Cobra bays.”

Sinclair strode to the front of the observation dome, the first thought on his mind contacting Ivanova to make sure she was alright, but his hand froze over the console as a movement just outside caught his eye. “Oh my God,” he murmured as he saw someone float past. “Get a rescue team out there now!” He punched the console in front of him. “C&C to Ivanova. This is C&C to Ivanova, please respond.”

_“Ivanova here, Commander.”_

“Are you alright?” Sinclair asked, his voice hoarse with emotion and not caring who noticed.

_“We're both fine, Commander. But the damage down here is pretty bad,”_ Ivanova replied.

“I'm sending repair crews to you as we speak.” Sinclair looked over his shoulder and nodded to a technician, who sent the order. “Any clue as to what happened?”

_“None, sir, but Mr Garibaldi is on the job.”_

Sinclair relaxed a little and allowed himself a smile. “I don't doubt it. Report to my office, Lieutenant Commander.”

_“Yes, Commander.”_

Ten minutes later, when Ivanova walked into the room, Sinclair couldn't help himself; he went straight up to her and put his hand on her shoulder. “Are you sure you're alright?”

Ivanova nodded. “A little shaken,” she admitted, then sighed. “I won't lie, Commander; it was close.”

He squeezed her shoulder briefly before letting his hand drop away and gesturing to the seat opposite his. “How bad is the damage down there?”

“We're going to be hard pressed to get everything back to normal before the President's arrival.”

“Is it possible?”

Ivanova thought about it, then nodded. “I think so. It'll be tough, but we'll manage.”

“Good. See to it?” Sinclair asked, looking at her.

“Of course.”

Just then his link went off. “Sinclair.”

_“This is Dr Franklin. I think you should come down to med lab straight away, Commander.”_

“On my way.” He looked at his second-in-command again, his gaze piercing. “I'll let you know when we find anything.”

She nodded in acknowledgement. “I'll be in C&C.”

As they walked out of his office, Sinclair found his hand coming to rest in the small of her back, a habit that was becoming all to easy to form, and extremely hard to stop. Just before they entered the corridor, Ivanova remembered something she had wanted to ask and turned back to talk to the Commander. She hadn't, however, taken into account just how close he was and as she turned, his nearness startled her and she lost her balance. Sinclair's arm, already almost touching Ivanova, snaked around her waist to stabilise her, an action which brought her flush against him. Reflex made her hands reach out to grab something to stop herself from falling, and Sinclair's chest was the first thing she found, her palms automatically going flat against him. She looked up just as he looked down, their faces just inches from each other, and the atmosphere in the office was nothing less than highly charged with attraction.

“Susan,” Sinclair murmured, his voice hoarse with pent up emotion.

One of Ivanova's hands began a slow ascent, his face clearly the destination, when a loud beep caused them both to spring apart as though burnt. Though the moment was ruined, they both stared at each other for a few seconds longer, trying to fix the memory in their minds. Finally, Sinclair brought his hand to his mouth.

“Sinclair,” he said, answering his link.

_“Commander, I've got the damage report on the blast,”_ Garibaldi told him.

“Meet me in med lab one in ten minutes.”

_“Yes, sir.”_

“I'd better get to C&C, Commander,” Ivanova said, straightening her uniform jacket and walking out rather hurriedly. Sinclair didn't even try to stop her as much as he wanted to. At that moment, there was nothing either of them could say to each other that would change the situation. With a deep sigh of regret, he headed towards med lab.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova tried not to be distracted while she worked, but it was pretty difficult. All she could see in her mind's eye was the expression on Sinclair's face, the closeness of that face to hers, how solid and warm and safe he felt beneath her fingertips. A small voice deep inside kept asking her what was so bad about the attraction; if they both felt the same way about each other, what was the problem? The problem, Ivanova knew, was more than just the uniform and the regulations standing between them. It was her inability to have successful relations with anyone without eventually pushing them away or them leaving. No one stayed around in her life, she knew that, and she was loath to think it would be any different with Sinclair. She knew it was a defeatist attitude, even for a Russian, and suddenly she felt like talking to Garibaldi. If anyone knew Sinclair well, it was him, and Ivanova found her thoughts turning to the security chief. Their relationship had taken a long time to reach the stage where they were completely at ease with each other, but she was finally now comfortable with him, and had even gotten used to his sense of humour, which was saying a great deal for her.

The door to the command deck opened and Ivanova automatically turned to see who was entering. She found herself surprised when her heart skipped a beat upon seeing Sinclair and she fought the urge to roll her eyes as she realised she was becoming a walking cliché. But then she took in the tightness of his face, the stiffness in his shoulders, and she was instantly alert.

“What's happened?” Ivanova asked in a low voice as he came to a stop next to her, her hand reaching out to lie on his arm briefly.

Sinclair opened his mouth to respond when he felt the contact and he looked down, surprised how much that one touch affected him. Swallowing, he looked into the cool blue eyes of his second-in-command and then around at the rest of the command deck. “Better in my office.”

Frowning, Ivanova followed him, and, when upon entering the room he headed straight for the coffee table area rather than his desk, her concerned increased. And when he sat on the sofa, her frown deepened. She couldn't very well take the armchair now, yet she didn't feel comfortable sitting next to him. It wasn't that she didn't want to either; it was just that she didn't trust herself completely being so close to him. As it was, he left her no choice as he was looking at her expectantly. Reluctantly, Ivanova sat.

Sinclair waited a moment before leaning forwards, fixing her with a gentle stare. Whether she realised it or not, her features clearly belied her thoughts and emotions, and as fascinating as he found it, it was also painful for him to watch. Keeping his voice soft, he said, “You have nothing to fear from me.”

Ivanova didn't show her surprise at his words, and instead forced a smile. “It isn't you I'm worried about, Commander,” she replied, acknowledging to herself it was only half the truth and hoping he would not pick up on it, and that if he did, he would let it lie.

Without giving anything away, Sinclair simply nodded. “Now, where to start? Garibaldi doesn't suspect sabotage....”

“Now that _is_ a surprise,” Ivanova murmured.

“...But he isn't ruling it out.”

“Okay, that isn't a surprise.”

Sinclair smiled briefly. “I think we're going to have trouble with Major Kemmer.”

“That doesn't surprise me,” Ivanova said. “And exactly in what was to you suspect we will have trouble with the delightful Major Kemmer?”

“Her and Garibaldi have...a history. It's personal....”

She held her hand up. “Say no more, Commander. I understand.” She softened her voice. “How is Garibaldi handling her presence?”

“Not well.” Sinclair sighed, ran a hand through his hair and sat back. “The injured man, Nolan, has died. Major Kemmer forcefully revived him, and with his dying breath, Nolan said it wasn't an accident, and it was a bomb. He also named Garibaldi as the one responsible.”

Ivanova laughed. “Garibaldi? Alright, he's a pain in the butt, but sabotage? I hope Major Kemmer didn't believe Nolan...did she?”

Sinclair's expression was grim. “As I said, they have a history and she has something of a personal vendetta against Michael. She believes the accusation against him, despite my best efforts to make her see clearly. She just kept throwing her authority around, and 'presidential security'.” As he went over the conversation again in his mind, Sinclair could feel his blood start to boil once more.

Recognising the danger signs, the onset of anger, Ivanova leant forward and put her hand on his arm, once again without really thinking about it. “What happened?” she asked.

Her touch calmed him, and he was glad when she didn't let go. “I had to suspend him.”

Ivanova squeezed his arm before pulling her hand back. “And how did he take it?”

“Better than I thought he would, but not great.”

“I don't blame him. Now what?”

“Now we try to find out who really planted the bomb, and make sure there are no other incidents before the President's arrival, or during his visit,” Sinclair said.

Ivanova pulled a face. “That might be a lot easier said than done, Commander. Especially with Garibaldi out of the loop.”

“I know, but we have to try.”

Ivanova smiled at him then, and he felt as though all his problems were melting away. “Don't worry, we've faced tougher problems than this, sir. I'm sure we'll make it through,” she said.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

A short while later, both senior officers back in C&C, Ivanova found her mood had changed dramatically and now she felt almost giddy. It was a strange feeling, one she definitely wasn't used to and wasn't even sure she liked. She was stood at her usual position looking out of the observation dome, while Sinclair was stood at one of the consoles at the back, studying data and talking to a technician. Every so often, Ivanova would glance over her shoulder at him, and either he would look up and smile at her, or she would find him already watching her intently. It was ridiculous to be so happy over something and nothing, and also given the current situation, but she couldn't help it.

Ivanova had just glanced at Sinclair for possibly the tenth time in twenty minutes when her console beeped and she frowned as Garibaldi's computer-generated face came onto the viewer. This time when she looked back over her shoulder at Sinclair, it was with a frown on her face. “Commander, there's a station-wide fugitive alert...for Mr Garibaldi.”

Sinclair had been lounging at one of the stations, not really paying attention to the data pad in front of him, more content to watch Ivanova surreptitiously. She really did have a proud stance, and he found he liked her hair down much more than in a severe ponytail. He understood the reasoning behind having such long hair bound tightly while on duty, but still...long hair would always be a weakness of his. However, upon hearing her announcement about his old friend, Sinclair immediately pushed all thoughts of Ivanova in such a way from his mind and became alert, standing up straight and frowning himself.

“What?” he said, incredulously, putting the pad down and walking to the front of the command deck.

Ivanova gestured to the console, clearly astounded. “Must be a joke,” she said hopefully, caught up in the situation, but not so much that she didn't notice Sinclair standing so close his arm was flush with hers.

Sinclair stared at the console for a moment, then said, “Cancel that alert.”

“With pleasure,” Ivanova replied, relaying the order to the security teams.

“You can't do that, Commander.”

Ivanova winced at the imperative tone of Major Kemmer and turned to watch her strut across the command deck towards them. The arrogance of the other woman made Ivanova's hackles rise, and she could feel herself starting to move forward, to step between Kemmer and Sinclair as a very clear warning, but Sinclair put a gentle but firm hand on her wrist, out of sight of everyone else, a silent order for her to stay. She did so, but reluctantly, and watched with growing anger as Kemmer tried every trick in the book to override Sinclair's authority. The Commander, however, wasn't having any of it, and occasionally he would glance witheringly at Ivanova. Then when Kemmer once again tried to invoke presidential authority, Ivanova had to forcibly stop herself from being amused, because she knew exactly how Sinclair would act. True to form, he pulled himself up to his full height, squared his shoulders, and laced his tone with just the right amount of disdain for her position and attitude, and anger over her conduct.

“This is my station, Major, and it's about time you realised that.” He turned to Ivanova, and she was surprised to see a certain amount of amusement in his eyes. “Lieutenant Commander, please escort Major Kemmer off the observation dome.” He then stepped to one side to allow her past, and Ivanova briefly considered cracking Kemmer on the jaw and dragging her out by her ankles.

Instead, she smiled extremely sweetly, like a wolf to a lamb, and said, “You are going to resist, I hope,” as she took hold of her elbow forcibly.

Kemmer looked shocked and indignant, and for a moment Ivanova actually thought she would stand her ground and fight. But then she took another look at the expression on Sinclair's face and decided to retreat in order to live and fight another day. Wrenching her elbow free, she stormed from the deck.

“Pity,” Ivanova murmured, before turning to look at Sinclair. She found him beaming at her, pride making his eyes glow. And for the first time, she didn't find the attention uncomfortable. “It won't achieve much really, will it?”

“It'll buy me some time to try and find Garibaldi,” Sinclair replied. “Let's hope it's enough.” And then he did something he had never done before; he winked at her. But it wasn't in a flirting way, more of conspiratorial way.

She nodded slightly back, and watched him as he left, then she turned to station one. “Commence level six maintenance check on all comm channels.” The technician looked surprised, but complied. Ivanova turned to stare out of the observation dome, bouncing a little on her heels as she did so, feeling quite smug about how the situation was turning out. There was no way she could help Sinclair or Garibaldi directly, but by running a communications check, she effectively tied up all the official channels in and out of the station for several hours. She knew both Sinclair and Garibaldi would be proud of her underhanded tactics.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Despite tracking Garibaldi to several locations, Sinclair had yet to find him, and he was starting to grow irritated. The time of the President's arrival was growing nearer and they still hadn't discovered who was responsible for the bombing, which, as far as Sinclair was concerned, meant that there was still a strong threat to station security. And he could only fend Kemmer off for a short period of time as well; she seemed to have more officers looking for Garibaldi than Sinclair did and that only served to irritate him even more.

His link went off and he smiled, automatically assuming it was Ivanova. “Sinclair.”

_“Commander, I wish to make a complaint against Lieutenant Commander Ivanova.”_

He scowled upon hearing Kemmer voice's, and wondered what Ivanova had been up to in the short space of time he had been absent from the command deck. “Why is that, Major Kemmer?”

_“She has deliberately tied up all communication channels, claiming she is running checks, not wanting President Santiago to be out of touch when he arrives,”_ Kemmer replied.

Sinclair paused to see if she had finished talking. “And?” he asked eventually.

There was an indignant silence. _“I demand this nonsense be stopped at once.”_

“I suggest you take the problem up with Lieutenant Commander Ivanova, Major,” Sinclair said as mildly as he could manage.

_“I already tried. She refused.”_ The chagrin in Kemmer's voice was all too evident.

Sinclair grinned. “Then that is your answer. If you'll excuse me, I have things to do.” With that, he cut the link, waited a moment, then contacted C&C.

_“Online,”_ Ivanova's voice came back to him.

“It seems Major Kemmer is put out with you.”

_“Any luck finding Mr Garibaldi?”_ Ivanova replied, ignoring his comment and clear amusement behind it.

“Not yet, but I'm sure he'll show up at some point,” Sinclair said.

_“Anything else, Commander?”_

“Not a damn thing, Lieutenant Commander. You're doing just fine,” he added softly.

Ivanova smiled. _“Thank you, sir._

As she stood staring out of the observation dome, she vowed then and there that she would never let anything come between her and Sinclair, Garibaldi, and even Franklin.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair had looked everywhere for Garibaldi and the security guard still remained elusive. The Commander wasn't surprised; no one knew the station better than Garibaldi, but he started to wish for a break. Then he passed by the casino and spoke with Londo, who in turn sent him to G'Kar, who in turn sent him in the direction of Nagrath. There was no way Sinclair was going to try and talk to the alien; he knew Nagrath wouldn't tell him anything, so it was a dead end. He started to wander into some of the seedier parts of the station, smiling a little as he thought of what Ivanova would say if she knew where he was. He had never known anyone so protective of him, yet not in a smothering kind of way. There was a security he felt when near her that wasn't oppressive, and though she was strong willed and independent, he had the same feeling the reverse was true. So like Catherine, yet so unlike her. Sinclair stopped, startled by his thoughts, and he realised Catherine hadn't crossed his mind in several months, ever since her last visit to Babylon 5. He hadn't heard any news from or about her at all, and the sad thing was, he wasn't concerned. It was almost as though he knew that part of his life was well and truly over, yet he also knew he would see her again. Catherine never was one for giving up easily; it held true that in their on-off relationship over the years, most of the time it was Sinclair who left. He shook his head. Really, that should have told him everything he needed to know long ago, but he hadn't wanted to see it back then. But now....

Sounds of fighting came to him, and he moved quickly in the direction they were coming from, just in time to see Garibaldi being set upon by Dagool and a couple of Drazi. With no sense of personal danger, as usual, Sinclair leapt over the railing and straight into the middle of the fight. Back to back with Garibaldi, it didn't take long for the two of them to convince the three attackers they would be better off elsewhere, especially if they valued their lives.

“What are you doing here, Jeff?” Garibaldi asked between breaths.

“Saving your butt by the looks of things.” Sinclair studied his old friend. “We need to get you to med lab.”

Garibaldi shook his head firmly. “I've got to find out who set me up.”

Sinclair made to reply, but then his link went off. “Sinclair.”

_“Commander, you have a gold priority message from General Netter,”_ Ivanova told him, and she sounded stressed.

“Swell,” he complained. “Listen, I've found what I was looking for. Stall General Netter and I'll be there as soon as I can.”

_“Is everything okay?”_ Ivanova asked, relief colouring her tone now.

“More or less, I'll explain later. Sinclair out.” He turned only to see Garibaldi had disappeared. “Michael,” he all but growled in exasperation.

Turning on his heel, Sinclair strode quickly up to the command deck, hoping to arrive before Kemmer did. Some luck must have been on his side; Ivanova was stood alone at her usual position. She was preoccupied with some task, only acknowledging him when she had finished and he was stood right beside her.

“Did you find Garbibaldi?” Ivanova asked, her voice low.

“Found him and lost him again,” Sinclair replied in exasperation.

Ivanova resisted touching him in some way to reassure him thing would work out. “So what now?”

He spread his hands slightly. “I'm running out of options. And now with General Netter on the line....”

“Surely she can't hate Garibaldi that much that she wants to see him strung up for something he didn't do.” Ivanova shook her head. “Is her personally vendetta worth his career, maybe even his life, and the safety of everyone on board this station?”

Sinclair was getting used to feeling pride over his second-in-command as an officer, but in that moment it was as a friend and he smiled warmly at her, a smile he knew he kept in reserve just for her, and was hoping she realised that as well. “He'll get through it, and so will we. Michael always seems to land on his feet.”

Just then, Kemmer walked onto the command deck and Ivanova muttered something in Russian, which Sinclair was certain wasn't flattering at all. Without acknowledging them, she ordered the message from General Netter to be put through. By the time she left the command deck, more convinced than ever of Garibaldi's guilt after discovering he had been paying for things with Centauri dukats, Sinclair's blood was a half degree away from boiling point.

“Are you sure she's necessary to presidential security?” Ivanova asked dryly.

“I'm beginning to wonder.” Sinclair sighed. “Look, I want you to take over preparations for the President's arrival. Make sure everyone's done what they need to do and are where they need to be. And see if you can check the Cobra bays before launch.”

Ivanova smiled. “Already tried that, sir. We can't get our people anywhere near the bays because Kemmer and her hounds are all over them like a rash.”

Sinclair nodded in acknowledgement of her good thinking but he was too preoccupied with the task ahead to give her his full attention. “Alright. Keep trying, and if you hear anything of Garibaldi, let me know.”

Ivanova nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Sinclair was briefly distracted by her as she walked away, but he shook his head a little and lifted his link to his mouth. “Security, patch me through to Officer Lou Welch.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

After some time, Ivanova could stand it no longer. “With all due respect, sir, if you're going to carry pacing, please do it elsewhere,” she said irritably.

Sinclair stopped and glared at her. “Didn't your shift end some time ago, Lieutenant Commander?” he retorted.

“With Mr Garibaldi out of action and the President's immediate arrival, I figured the more hands on deck, the better,” she replied.

“Commendable,” he said, and then continued to pace.

Ivanova watched him for a few moments, then moved to stand right in front of him. She didn't care that there were other crew members on the observation deck watching them, all she cared about was how Sinclair's agitated state was making her uncomfortable. At first she didn't think he had noticed her; he continued walking until almost toe to toe with her, and then stopped, looking down at her with dark eyes.

“We should have some news by now,” he murmured, lowering his head and his voice, turning his back on the rest of the deck to look out of the viewport.

Ivanova turned as well, her shoulder close to his. “You didn't really expect to hear anything else from Major Kemmer just yet, did you, Commander?”

“I meant about Mr Garibaldi. I asked Officer Welch to check Nolan's quarters, as Kemmer and her hounds didn't seem bothered about doing that after the explosion. I'm still waiting for a reply from him.”

“You don't think something's happened to him, do you?” Ivanova asked in concern.

“I hope not,” Sinclair replied darkly.

Ivanova was just about to ask his thoughts on Garibaldi's whereabouts when the voice of a technician interrupted. “Commander, I have Major Kemmer wanting to speak to you.”

Sinclair sighed and rolled his eyes at Ivanova. “Patch her through.”

_“I just thought you should know that we have Mr Garibaldi in custody,”_ Kemmer said smugly.

Unseen, by Kemmer at least, Ivanova put her hand on Sinclair's back, to try and help him stay calm as she could feel the tension and anger radiating off him. “Is he alright?” the Commander asked.

Kemmer's smirk grew. _“Other than being drunk, he's just fine. Everything can now proceed smoothly with the President's visit, Commander.”_ Not giving Sinclair chance to respond, she cut the communication.

“Do you think the President or General Netter would really miss her?” Ivanova asked quietly.

“I'm sure we could come up with a credible explanation for her disappearance,” Sinclair replied, his anger barely controlled.

Ivanova managed to smile up at him, which seemed to ease his ire somewhat. “At least Garibaldi is safe.”

“That depends on your definition of safe.”

She was just about to commend him on his Russian attitude when his link went off. “I'm going to get some coffee,” Ivanova said. “Can I get you anything, Commander?”

Sinclair considered several replies before finally shaking his head. “No, thanks.” He resisted watching her leave and instead answered his link.

_“Commander, Officer Welch here. I checked Nolan's quarters like you asked, sir.”_

“And?” Sinclair asked, quietly expectant.

_“It looks like you were right, sir,”_ Welch said. _“I found plans of the Cobra bays and traces of explosives.”_

“Good work, Officer Welch.” Sinclair's tone was warm and he smiled as he felt some of the tension sliding from him. “Take the information to Major Kemmer immediately.”

_“Yes, sir.”_

“Commander, Earthforce 1 is approaching the exit from hyperspace,” a technician informed him.

“Good.” He transferred his gaze to the jumpgate, watching as the vortex grew, a blue cone in space, and the President's spacecraft appeared. “Welcome to Babylon 5, Mr President. You're cleared for immediate docking,” Sinclair said.

He heard the door to the command deck open and close again and didn't need to turn to know it was Ivanova. “He's here.”

Sinclair glanced at her, remembering an early conversation with her when she had only been on the station a few weeks. “You still don't like President Santiago?” he asked.

Ivanova smiled slightly. “I'll admit he's growing on me. But I do not like his Vice President.”

“From what I've heard, not many people do,” Sinclair said, his tone dark. He caught her inquiring glance but shook his head. It wasn't a dismissal, she understood, just a topic for another time. “I have to go and get ready for the President's arrival. You should be there as well, but with everything going on....”

“We've already been through this,” Ivanova reminded him, and they had.

Apart from protocol calling for Ivanova's presence as the second in command of the station at the reception for the President, Sinclair wanted her there for a number of reasons, top of which were moral support for him, and to further her diplomatic and command career. But with the attack on the Cobra bays, and the framing of Garibaldi, he wasn't comfortable with the entire senior staff being in one place at the same time with the President. To Sinclair, it presented too easy a target. When he had broached the subject with Ivanova, he had expected some arguments but she had surprisingly agreed quite easily.

“I suspect there will be a meal after the reception. I expect you there,” Sinclair said, both an offer and an order.

“Yes, sir.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair tugged at his uniform. It felt strange to be alone on such an important occasion, but it couldn't be helped. He needed to be present with President Santiago at all times, which left Ivanova in charge of the rest of the station, while Franklin was tied up in med lab and Garibaldi was.... Sinclair sighed inaudibly; the last thing he wanted was to appear bored with the President's speech. Garibaldi was drunk, Kemmer had said. It occurred to him she might have been lying, but he didn't think so. She sounded too smug to have made it up, and the tone of her voice as she relayed the news to him just moments before the President arrived made him grind his teeth together. He knew what Kemmer's problem was, could even understand it in a way, but he wished she would use the brain that she obviously had and see what she was proposing was ridiculous to say the least. He had proof that Nolan was involved, and had tried – quite successfully – to incriminate Garibaldi, but Kemmer wouldn't be interested. Not that he had the chance to explain things to her. Not that he had the inclination particularly either.

As President Santiago finished speaking, Sinclair dutifully clapped, then as soon as the opportunity presented itself, he slipped away to a quiet part of the room and tapped his link. “Sinclair to C&C.”

_“C &C online,”_ Ivanova replied, and for a moment Sinclair expected her to make some sort of comment about why he was contacting her again so soon after they had last spoken. When none was forthcoming, he realised she was controlling herself, not knowing who might be listening, and he smiled.

“Have you been able to get anyone down to the Cobra bays?” he asked.

_“No, Commander. Only Cutter is down there, as far as I know.”_ A pause. _“How is the reception?”_

“The usual. But Major Kemmer isn't here.”

On the command deck, Ivanova frowned. _“Odd.”_

“I know. Look, do what you can, Lieutenant Commander. I don't want any more surprises.” Sinclair turned his head. “I think it's time for the second part of the President's speech.”

_“I hope it's better than the first part,”_ Ivanova murmured.

Sinclair pretended not to have heard her. “I'm sure you have plenty to be getting on with.”

“Yes, sir. Flipping a switch can be very difficult work.”

He didn't bother to call her on her impertinence, or point out that no switches were involved in illuminating the station at the necessary time. Instead, he just smiled, cut the communication, and resumed his position near the President.

Until not five minutes later, when his link beeped, and he apologised profusely to the President and honoured guests for the interruption. “Sinclair here.”

_“Commander, we have a serious situation. You need to get up here.”_ Ivanova sounded tense, but also relieved, and he was instantly alert.

“Is it...?” Sinclair couldn't help but start to ask.

_“There were charges on all the Cobra bay doors. Luckily Mr Garibaldi saved the day,”_ she replied, answering all his questions in one. He also knew she had spoken loudly enough for everyone to hear just who exactly was innocent.

“I'm on my way.” Sinclair turned to President Santiago. “I'm very sorry, Mr President, I have an urgent matter to attend to.”

Santiago looked at him with a piercing gaze. “Perfectly understandable, Commander. A disaster well averted.” His eyes flickered briefly to something over Sinclair's shoulder. “Your security chief is to be commended for his actions.”

Sinclair inclined his head in acknowledgement. “Thank you, sir. Excuse me.” As he turned, he realised what Santiago had been looking at. Kemmer, looking slightly worse for wear, had just entered the room, presumably to give the President the news directly. Ivanova had beaten her to it, but instead of looking chagrined, Kemmer looked suitably sheepish. As Sinclair passed her, he had the feeling she wanted to say something, but didn't.

Then, when he was almost out of sight, he heard, “Commander!”

Turning slowly on his heel, Sinclair waited. Kemmer hadn't moved, and her lips were pursed, tightly shut. But she had called him. Just as he was about to walk away, she suddenly straightened and saluted him. It was different to the one she had given him when first arriving on the station; that was born of arrogance and superiority. This one was offered as an apology, and given with respect. With a smile, Sinclair returned the gesture.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

It had taken a while, put the reception back by a few hours, but it was well worth it. The charges had been removed, the station was safe again. Sinclair was proud of Garibaldi for pulling himself through and told him so, though not quite in as many words. And he was proud of Ivanova for handling the situation as she did, and he made sure he showed it with every little gesture, every smile and glance in her direction while they both mingled with the crowd at the reception. It felt strange to Sinclair, not having the watchful eye of Garibaldi present, but Major Kemmer was doing a good enough job at making sure everything ran smoothly, especially after what had just happened. His only hope was that she would soften enough to talk to Garibaldi before she left, maybe even patch things up with him.

“That was an...interesting experience,” Ivanova murmured from his side.

Sinclair, lost in thought, hadn't heard her approach, and swung his head to look at her. “Just another day for us.”

She nodded. “How is Mr Garibaldi?”

“A few bruises and more alcohol than blood in his body, but he'll survive,” he replied dryly.

“It was a close call, Commander,” Ivanova said, lowering her voice. “If Garibaldi had been seconds later, if I had hesitated any longer....”

Sinclair nodded. “I know,” he replied, his voice heavy. Even though she had already briefed him on what happened, he had the feeling they would be discussing it for a while to come. “But he wasn't any later, and you didn't hesitate any longer than necessary.”

But Ivanova wasn't buying. “That's not true, sir, and you know it. If Garibaldi had spoken to you instead of me, you would have frozen the count when he said so the first time.”

Glancing at her face, he saw that there was no reasoning with her; she had decided she was in the wrong, that it appeared she didn't trust Garibaldi as much as she should do, and not matter what Sinclair said to her, she was going to carry on believing she had something to atone for.

“Susan, if it bothers you that much, just talk to Michael about it,” he said gently. “I already know what he'll say, though. He'll smile and shrug it off, and say he doesn't blame you, because had he been in your shoes, he wouldn't have believed himself either. And before you start thinking about going easy on Garibaldi, go easy on yourself.”

Ivanova stood quietly for a moment, processing Sinclair's words, and he waited patiently. “I don't think I will speak with Mr Garibaldi. Apart from not wanting to put myself through that experience any more often than absolutely necessary, I don't want him to get the impression I actually like him.”

Sinclair smiled. “It could be too late for that.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning he knows how much you put yourself out to protect him, and to help me try to find him.”

“I don't suppose you know who might have been talking, do you, Commander?” Ivanova's tone was more than faintly ominous.

Sinclair just ignored her. “Haven't a clue, Lieutenant Commander.”

Before their banter could continue, the President finished his earlier speech, officially giving the new StarFuries to the station, and everyone joined in the applause as they watched the new fighters give a display outside. Then, with the necessary business taken care of, the reception party broke up, the excitement of the day catching up with everyone, some more than others. Sinclair and Ivanova found themselves drawn together as they drifted out of the room, but they were both strangely quiet. Just before they parted ways, Sinclair cupped her elbow, drawing her off to one side with him.

“I haven't forgotten about that dinner invitation. It's just....”

“You really don't have to explain.” Ivanova smiled. “I do work here as well, you know. I understand.”

Sinclair smiled back, knowing she really did understand. Not like Catherine. The thought of his ex made him frown a little, and back came the gnawing worry that since she had left so suddenly, he hadn't heard anything from her at all. He knew it wasn't over between them; there would have to be a final reckoning at some point. Catherine was not one to just walk away quietly.

“Commander?” Ivanova's face creased slightly with worry as she saw the dark emotion in his eyes.

Bringing himself back to the present, Sinclair forced the smile back on his face. “Dinner. I haven't forgotten. The offer still stands. The next time we're both off duty? Unless a crisis appears, of course.”

“Of course.” Ivanova nodded. “Alright. Next time we're both off duty.”

Sinclair's expression was pleased. “Good. And good work today, Lieutenant Commander.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“And Susan, I meant what I said before. If this incident bothers you so much, talk to Garibaldi about it.”

“I'll keep the option in mind, sir,” she promised.

He nodded. “That's all I ask.”

TBC


	15. 113 A Voice in the Wilderness Pt 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I have another couple of chapters written out (VitW Pt 2 and Babylon Squared) and I'm making a start on Legacies. I really wanted to get season 1 finished, or at least notes made, before the end of this month, but life got in the way. See, I'm going away for 4 months (I leave end of May, get back beginning of October) and though I'll have my computer with me, without any notes on the episodes I can't write anything, and I doubt I'll have time anyway. So if there isn't an update for a while, don't think I've abandoned the story! Thanks.

_June 2258_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova took a breath before walking onto the command deck. She was bone weary, having not slept properly for a few days, what little sleep she did get plagued with odd dreams that made no sense, filled with people she didn't know yet did. Sinclair was there, yet he was not Sinclair, and Delenn also. It was all a little confusing and more than a little disturbing. Ivanova did not usually dream so vividly and it was starting to worry here. Of course, none of that showed through when she stepped into C&C, her uniform properly pressed, hair tied severely back, her expression professional as always.

“Lieutenant Commander, we're picking up a disturbance....” The technician paused, then frowned as she stared at her console for a moment, then looked back at Ivanova. “...From Epsilon III.”

Ivanova's eyes widened. “From the planet below us?”

“Yes.”

“What kind of disturbance?”

“It seems to be seismic in nature.”

_'A good way to start my shift,'_ Ivanova thought, mentally rolling her eyes as she tapped her console. “C &C to Commander Sinclair.”

His reply was longer in coming than usual, and she was well aware he might have been sleeping, his shift having ended not that long ago. _“Sinclair.”_

“Sorry to disturb you, Commander, but I thought you should know we're picking up seismic disturbances from Epsilon III.”

Sinclair paused. _“Serious?”_

That was one of the things Ivanova genuinely liked about him; he never used more words than he had to. “I'm not sure, it seems like they've only just started.”

_“Monitor them closely, keep me informed of any sudden change.”_

“Will do.”

Ivanova didn't really need to pass that order on; the technicians were well trained and knew what to do. Instead she busied herself with the usual tasks she had to undertake whilst on duty, stopping every so often to receive a report on the seismic activity. It was interesting, as everyone had thought Epsilon III was a completely dead planet, but Ivanova found the general running of the station to be more pressing and important. As long as the planet didn't blow up, they would be fine. Of course, there was no way of knowing that the planet _wasn't about to blow up_. And after the report she had just received, she knew what needed to be done next.

“Station one, get me Dr Tasaki,” Ivanova ordered, looking over her shoulder. A few moments later, a grey-haired man with Asian features appeared on the screen. “Dr, I need you to put a survey team together.”

_“Destination?”_ Tasaki asked.

“The planet below us, Epsilon III,” Ivanova replied, watching him closely for his reaction. She wasn't disappointed. Immediately, the geologist started to fire questions at her, a quick succession of one after another, until she held her hand up. “Dr, I'll explain it all to you later. Just get your team ready and stand by.”

_“With pleasure.”_

“That was going to be my first suggestion when I got here, but it seems you've beaten me to it. Want my job?”

To her credit, Ivanova didn't jump...outwardly, at least. Inwardly, she was three feet in the air and still rising. “Commander. Your shift isn't due to start for another couple of hours, is it?”

Sinclair was stood next to her, looking refreshed and professional, but she could see behind the mask and it worried her. “I thought I'd check up on what was happening on the planet below. Intriguing, really. Do we know what's causing the seismic activity? Did it just suddenly start?”

Ivanova nodded. “They started just after I came on duty, and at first we thought it was just regular seismic activity.”

“Even though there's been no indication of any such activity before.”

“Exactly. But the last report said that the disturbances were moving inward.”

Sinclair raised his eyebrows. “Inward?” he repeated.

Ivanova nodded again. “Yes, sir. Which is why I ordered Dr Tasaki to stand by. Once we're sure it's safe, we'll send the geology team down and see if they can find us some more definite answers.” She held his gaze, asking a question without speaking the words.

“Good call, Lieutenant Commander.” He then turned. “I'll be in my office. Let me know if there's any change.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

When Kosh entered Delenn's quarters, she didn't have time to try and hide the surprise, which was immediately followed by dread. He had already asked a lot from her; did he now want more? But after moments of silence, where she had been hoping he would simply state why he was there, Delenn was forced to speak.

“Was there something, Ambassador Kosh?”

“The One Who Was has been chosen, but is not the One. He must not be allowed a choice in this matter.”

Delenn stared at him. “I do not understand.”

“Understanding is not necessary. Another must be chosen, or all will be lost.”

“Why are you telling me this? If I do not understand what you want me to do, then how can I do it?”

Kosh looked at her. “Small pebbles grow into an avalanche which once started cannot be stopped or moved. We are pebbles. The avalanche is about to begin. But motion is possible before.”

Delenn stared back. “Are you saying that if all the...pebbles are not in the right place...that all will be lost? That if one pebble goes in the wrong direction...?”

“The One Who Was has been chosen, but is not the One. He must not be allowed a choice in this matter,” Kosh repeated before leaving swiftly.

It was the closest to a clear conversation Delenn had ever had with Kosh, or any other Vorlon for that matter. And the speed at which he left told her she had indeed understood him correctly. Now she just needed to understand him properly, to understand exactly who was the chosen one who was not meant to be chosen.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Commander.”

Sinclair lifted his head from his hands to stare at his second-in-command. “Lieutenant Commander.”

She wanted to ask him if he was alright, but instead said, “I think it should be safe enough to send the shuttle now.”

Wordlessly, he rose to his feet and walked towards Ivanova, then passed her, gesturing for her to follow him. “Tell Dr Tasaki to get ready.”

Once on the command deck, they both moved separately, studying the different consoles with the same information, until Ivanova said, “Shuttle One is ready to go, Commander.”

He walked towards her, and she though she detected some stiffness in his gait. “Is there any change in those seismic disturbances?” He had already asked several times, but felt the need to ask again.

“We're still picking up rumbles from further down,” Ivanova replied. “Normally I wouldn't bother, but we are in orbit over this thing.”

Sinclair dipped his head and put his hands on his hips. He knew he looked weary because he felt it. It had taken him a while after his ordeal at the hands of the Knights to get back into a good sleep pattern without reliving the Battle of the Line every time he closed his eyes, but lately his dreams were plagued by different images, a kaleidoscope of colour and feeling he couldn't understand. And through it all was one word: choose. It made no sense to him, yet he couldn't shake the dreams. Aware Ivanova was still in front of him, Sinclair forced a reply.

“I know. Best to check it out, just to be sure.”

She hesitated a fraction, sensing his discomfort and wondering if it was her doing, somehow. Suddenly she wondered if he had heard from Catherine, and that she was coming back to the station, which would mean all of Ivanova's hopes would be left in tatters. She didn't trust herself to reply to Sinclair, so she just nodded and then ordered the shuttle to commence their geological survey. Yet when she looked back at Sinclair, he was smiling, though it was a tight expression.

“I have to go play diplomat for a few hours,” he said. “Let me know when the survey ship comes back.”

“Yes, sir.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair hadn't really wanted to walk with Talia, but it was better than sharing a transport tube with Garibaldi. It wasn't that he had anything against the telepath, it was simply that he didn't really want any company at all, not even Ivanova's, which he found strange. But what was even more strange to him was that Londo was already in the meeting room waiting for him, while Delenn was nowhere in sight.

“Ambassador,” Sinclair greeted him.

“Commander,” Londo replied, sort of waving from his seated position. “I thought Delenn might have been with you.”

“I haven't seen her.” Deliberately, Sinclair turned him attention to the notes he had made for the meeting; as well as not wanting company, he didn't particularly want to make small talk with anyone either, especially not Londo. Luckily, something else intervened....

On the command deck, as Ivanova righted herself from the shock which had just rocked the station, she decided that the planet they were orbiting was the most important thing to her right now, especially if there was going to be a boom involved. She hated booms.

“What the hell was that?” she asked, looking around the deck to make sure everyone was alright.

_“Massive power surge from Epsilon III, knocked out some of our systems.”_ The answer came from Tasaki on the shuttle in orbit around the planet. _“We can't make it back on our own. Can you send someone to give us a lift?”_

“We'll send two StarFuries ASAP. Don't go anywhere,” Ivanova replied, her fingers already moving across the console, cutting one communication in preparation for making another. She never had the chance.

_“Sinclair to C &C.”_

“Commander.”

_“What happened?”_ he asked.

“Some sort of massive energy surge from the planet,” Ivanova informed him. “We're not sure what it was or exactly what it came from.”

_“Is the survey team alright?”_

“A little shaken, but otherwise fine,” she said. “They should be back on board in a few hours, after we've gone and picked them up.”

_“Good. Keep me informed, and see if you can find out what's going on down there.”_

“Yes, sir.”

Sinclair paused before turning back to Londo. The Centauri was sat there with his usual smile on his face. “An interesting riddle, Commander. I thought the planet we were orbiting was supposed to be uninhabited.”

“That's what we thought,” he replied, his eyes drawn to the door.

“I am sure she is fine, Commander Sinclair. Delenn is never late without good reason.” Londo then pulled a face. “But perhaps it would be better if you didn't tell her I said that.”

Sinclair smiled to cover his surprise at the Centauri ambassador's perception. It was all too easy to pass Londo off as a frivolous drunk, but there was a lot more to him than met the eye. Which would be said for quite a few of the personnel on board the station. Including Delenn. Sinclair felt his dark mood descending upon him again as he thought about the Minbari ambassador, who had also been appearing in his dreams, but she was different. And then there was still the nagging doubt at the back of his mind, placed there by someone who could not now explain what he knew.

_'They're using you. They're using you!'_

“My apologies for being late, Commander. Ambassador Mollari. I was unavoidably detained,” Delenn said as she entered the room.

“That's quite alright, Delenn,” Londo replied graciously. “The Commander and I were just discussing the mysteries of the universe.”

As Delenn looked at Londo, Sinclair looked at her. There was a lot more stress in her expression than was normal, and he could only surmise that whatever had delayed her was a matter of great importance, and for some reason that thought made his gut twist uncomfortably. However, he forced everything from his mind and sat down to the negotiations, which went surprisingly smoothly and quickly. But when Londo left, Delenn lingered.

“Is everything alright, Ambassador?”

“Yes. I was just thinking about Ambassador Mollari's comment concerning the mysteries of the universe.”

“Any one in particular you were thinking about?” Sinclair asked.

Delenn was about to give him an answer but as she opened her mouth to speak, she looked deep into his eyes and saw things that she felt certain she was not supposed to see. Not everything, not all of him, but enough to know the very balance of the universe rested with the man in front of her, and like a fog lifting, she began to understand what Kosh had meant.

“Not really,” she said eventually. “How is Lieutenant Commander Ivanova settling in?”

Sinclair was silent for a time, the question surprising him. “Fine. Why?”

“It is polite to ask, is it not?”

A question but not a question, the kind he was used to getting from the Minbari. “Yes, it is.”

“She seems extremely well suited to the job.”

Sinclair couldn't help but think 'job' wasn't what Delenn had meant to say, but then he wondered if she ever meant what she said, or said what she meant. “She's doing just fine,” he said warmly. “And she can handle Mr Garibaldi, which counts for a lot in my book.”

Not quite understanding the reference, but understanding its meaning, Delenn simply smiled. “That is reassuring to hear. Good day, Commander.”

Sinclair bowed his head. “Ambassador.” Just as he was about to leave the room, his link beeped. “Sinclair.”

_“Commander, the survey team is back and we have some interesting information about that energy surge,”_ Ivanova told him.

“On my way.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

The moment he saw Ivanova when he entered the command deck, Sinclair realised something was wrong with her, and it wasn't just the current situation. He cursed his own inattention for not noticing earlier and when he caught her eye, he smiled slightly motioned her to join him at an empty console at the back of C&C.

“Commander?” Ivanova asked, frowning.

“Is everything alright? With you, I mean,” Sinclair replied, studying her carefully. She seemed weary, her face drawn, and he wondered if she was having as much trouble sleeping as he was.

Ivanova wanted to say everything was fine, but she stopped herself long enough to realise Sinclair was making an effort, whatever had been bothering him all day seemingly forgotten. “Just a little tired, that's all.”

“As long as you're sure it's nothing else,” he said, holding her gaze.

“I'm sure.”

“Okay. What do we know about that energy surge?” he asked, leaning against the console as he spoke.

“It's a beacon of some sort, a beam projected from the planet but to where or who, we don't know. Its strength has diminished somewhat over the last few hours, but that doesn't really mean much.”

Sinclair put his elbow up on the console and laced his fingers together, staring out of the view port at the other side of the command deck. “Are you sure it's a beacon?”

Ivanova nodded. “It's definitely a series of regular signals, but we haven't been able to decipher them yet.”

Sinclair was about to speak again when he felt something brush his elbow and he looked down to see Ivanova's hand on the console as well. To the casual onlooker, it was nothing more than an accident, but he knew better, and lifting his gaze to her face, he smiled. They were both silent for a few moments, oblivious to everyone and everything else around them, as Sinclair how happy he was just being in her presence. He heard himself ask how Dr Tasaki was, but didn't really follow the conversation after that, and so he was suddenly aware it was over when Ivanova said, “Commander?” for what sounded like the third or fourth time at least.

“That's fine, Lieutenant Commander,” he replied, still smiling.

He turned to leave, her puzzled expression almost amusing to him, and had reached the door when her voice stopped him again. “Oh, by the way, Commander, have you heard any news today from the Mars colony?”

Her question stopped Sinclair in his tracks and he frowned a little as he thought. “No, I haven't. Why?”

“Usually there's something in the daily status report from Earthforce, but it just came in and there was nothing.” She held her hands out to the side. “Usually that means they're doing military exercises, but we would have got some warning if that was the case and there was nothing.”

Sinclair put his hands in his pockets and thought about it. “Probably just a glitch in the system,” he replied eventually. “Good night, Lieutenant Commander.”

Ivanova frowned, distracted by his seemingly unconcerned response. As she said, “Good night, Commander,” she realised he had already left the command deck. Slowly, she made her way to her own console, mulling his strange behaviour around in her head. Maybe it was nothing, just an off day. The Great Maker himself knew they were all entitled to one, but was unusual for Sinclair to let anything personal get in the way of his professional conduct. Then Ivanova looked at the time and thought maybe she was making a great deal out of nothing, that maybe he was just very tired after a long day, and no wonder. He had started his shift some hours earlier than he should have, and stayed with her long after her own shift should have ended. Which probably explained why she was tired as well.

“Is there any particular reason why the night shift hasn't arrived on duty yet?” she asked over her shoulder.

The few remaining technicians looked at each other before one spoke up. “Not that I know of, Lieutenant Commander.”

“Well then, do you think you could find out where they are?”

The technician gulped. “Yes, sir.”

Ivanova busied herself for a time at her console, but when she finally ran out of things to do, she turned ISN on. Another technician's voice interrupted the current news report. “Apparently there was some confusion over the time schedule, Lieutenant Commander. Night shift is on their way right now.”

Ivanova acknowledged the report with a wave of a her hand and a terse, “Good,” just as some breaking news was shown.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair had slouched so far down into his chair that he was loath to get up, but knew his back would complain if he didn't move and wearily, he pushed himself to his feet. He knew he had to try and sleep, but wasn't looking forward to what dreams he would have to endure that night. Ivanova's face lingered in his mind's eye, which it did frequently, and he considered contacting her to ask the impossible. He knew she was suffering as well, though he was certain his solution would just cause more trouble for the both of them.

“....Open revolt in progress against the Earth-appointed provisional government....”

Sinclair swung back to the ISN report and watched in shock at the destruction being shown. He wasn't all that surprised at what was happening; having grown up on Mars, he had always been aware of the resentment towards Earth, but never actually felt it himself. But Mars was still his home, no matter where he was stationed, and it hurt him to see such a war being fought there. He was glad his brother, Malcolm, was no longer on the planet either, and even though they hadn't spoke for a while he felt the sudden urge to contact him. Then, as the live ISN feed from Mars went dead, Sinclair sensed another presence in his quarters before he heard a strained whisper.

“Help.”

He turned and blinked in surprise at the creature stood before him.

“Help me.”

The being stretched his arm out towards Sinclair and then vanished. The Commander stared at the empty space, wondering whether he had really seen something or whether it was just a figment of his imagination, some sort of hallucination. When he heard the chimes for his quarters go, he said, “Come,” without even thinking about it.

Ivanova stepped through the door and stopped. Sinclair looked shell-shocked and unnerved, and she wondered if there had been further news from Mars in the time it had taken her to leave C&C and arrive at his quarters. Without thinking, she walked right up to him, invading his personal space, and put her hand on his arm.

“Commander?”

Sinclair turned slightly and looked down at her. “Lieutenant Commander. Was there something?” he asked.

He sounded normal, but Ivanova knew differently. Taking hold of his arm more firmly, she led him to the chair and made him sit down. “Are you alright?”

“What?” Sinclair blinked several times, and then looked at her as though seeing her for the first time. “Sorry. I just thought I saw...something.” He shook his head. “Never mind.”

“What was it?”

“It was nothing.” He then frowned. “Are you alright?”

Ivanova nodded. “I just came by to see...well, to see if you were alright.”

They both smiled at their awkwardness, the constant repetition amusing them, diffusing the tension. “I'm fine, thank you.” Sinclair shook his head and sat back. “Terrible to see places where I grew up going up in smoke.”

“Do you still have family and friends there?”

“No, thankfully. You?”

“Not any more,” Ivanova replied, also shaking her head. She studied him for a moment before continuing. “Garibaldi is going to take this pretty hard.”

Sinclair sighed. “So you know about that.”

She nodded. “After the incident the other week with the President's visit, I decided to take your advice and talk to him for a while. He told me about his time on Mars, meeting you, that this was his last chance to make good, which I already knew. And about Lise.”

“I'm glad he opened up to you. Michael's a good man.”

“Yes, he is.”

Sinclair smiled at his own memories. “So he told you about how we had to walk out of the desert, then?”

Ivanova nodded, straight-faced. “Yes, he did.”

“And what else did he tell you?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

“Unlikely.”

“Whatever Mr Garibaldi may or may not have told me, sir, will never be used against you. Probably.”

Sinclair rolled his eyes, but carried on smiling nonetheless. “You should get some rest, Ivanova. You've been going longer than I have,” he pointed out gently.

“I doubt I'll sleep much tonight,” she admitted.

“I know what you mean.”

“No, it's not this situation. It's just...I've been having the strangest dreams lately, from the moment I close my eyes, and I have no idea what they mean. It's driving me crazy.”

“I know what you mean,” Sinclair repeated slowly.

Ivanova looked at him and realised he did understand. She wanted to ask him something, something completely impossible, and she was surprised how difficult it was to keep herself from saying the words. “Well, I suppose I had better turn in,” she said eventually.

Sinclair nodded, standing. “Thanks for stopping by.”

“Any time.”

He wanted to hold her. And he could have. She wanted to be held. No one would know. They were all alone. Instead, he put his hands in his pockets and simply said, “Try to get some rest. I'll see you in the morning.”

“You too, Commander.”

“Breakfast?” he blurted out suddenly.

Ivanova didn't even blink. “Alright.” Then she smiled somewhat slyly. “I'll bring the coffee.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

But there was no coffee the next morning as Ivanova was late to the mess hall after another restless night, and from the look on Sinclair's face, he hadn't slept any better. He sat hunched over a small table, pushing food around his plate unenthusiastically.

“Commander.” He looked up and just nodded to her, then looked at the chair, a silent invitation for her to join him. “Have you spoken with Garibaldi yet?” she asked.

Sinclair shook his head. “I'll try to check on him later. What's the status on Epsilon III?”

“The geology team leaves in a few hours,” Ivanova replied.

He nodded once, then nodded again. “Good.” He stared at his breakfast for a while, then pushed the tray away, stood and strode from the mess hall.

Ivanova picked up the spoon but didn't touch her food either. “Damn,” she muttered, then she too pushed her tray away and went after Sinclair. She was surprised how far he had managed to get before she caught up with him. “Commander!”

Sinclair turned to see Ivanova rushing towards him. “Is there a problem, Lieutenant Commander?”

She hesitated, which was very much unlike her, but she only had a few short seconds to weigh up her options, and she knew in an instant that she would have to make the first move. “Yes, sir, there is.” She lowered her voice. “I need to talk to you. You need coffee and so do I. I have coffee in my quarters.”

He nodded slowly. “Alright.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Have I thanked you for helping me to find quarters last night?” Draal was asking as Delenn busied herself in the kitchen area. “And for the excellent breakfast this morning?” No reply. “Have I told you about Rathenn?” Still nothing.

Delenn stopped what she was doing, her hands stilling on a cup. Kosh's words from the day before were echoing in her mind. She now knew Sinclair had been chosen, but chosen for what, she did not know, only that he could not be allowed a choice. It was ironic that she found herself uncomfortable controlling his fate in such a manner, when she had clearly not flinched from such a task at other times. But she found herself wondering who else could be worthy to fill a role Sinclair himself had been chosen for. And without warning, Ivanova came to mind. Delenn was surprised and she gasped slightly.

“Delenn?”

Draal's voice and his proximity to her startled her. “I was just....”

“You were thinking too much,” he said gently. “Do you want to tell me what is bothering you?”

Delenn turned and smiled. “Only after you tell me what is bothering you.”

Draal held her gaze for a moment, seeing the defiance and strength there, and he sighed. He had been looking forward to seeing her again, but dreading the conversation that was about to follow. “I'm tired, Delenn. Things are changing back home, and not all for the better, I fear.” He took a breath. “I'm going to the Sea.”

Delenn's eyes widened but before she could speak, a second understand came to her. For in front of her was someone who was definitely worthy, in her eyes, to fill a role that Sinclair had been chosen for but could not take.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Not that I don't want you to feel you can't talk to me at any time, but we do have a bit of a situation on our hands at the minute,” Sinclair said mildly, forcing a smile to rob his words of any offence they might give.

“True, but there isn't much we can do about the planet below us, or the situation on Mars,” Ivanova replied, sipping her coffee.

They were both perched on stools at the counter of her kitchen area, sat close but not touching. “So what did you want to talk about?”

“I'm worried about you, and as your second-in-command, I feel the need to bring your behaviour to light,” she said without preamble. “You've been noticeably distracted, Commander, and cranky as well. If you need some personal time, take it....”

Sinclair silenced her with a look but it wasn't a glare. “I haven't been sleeping properly, that's all.”

“The Knights?” Ivanova asked, not without sympathy. Then in a softer voice, “The Line?”

“Neither, thankfully. I don't know, it's all a bit messed up.” He took a long drink of his coffee. “I keep having these dreams where it feels like I'm being offered a choice, but if I choose the wrong option, the whole universe explodes. Literally.”

Ivanova raised her eyebrows. “Nice.”

“I know. But there's also another part to them, something that tells me I'm being offered a choice to make that choice, which makes no sense at all.”

She smiled. “You're right, it doesn't. But I have something else for you. The other reason I wanted to talk to you was because I haven't been sleeping properly either, and it seems its because of you.”

At her statement, Sinclair's eyebrows shot right up, almost as if they were trying to disappear into his hairline.

Ivanova coloured a little. “Not like that. In my dreams, you're there, but it isn't you. And I'm there, but it isn't me. Sometimes Delenn is there as well....”

“...But she isn't Delenn.”

“Exactly.”

Sinclair shifted in his seat. “When did these dreams start?”

“Three or four days ago.”

“Interesting. About the same time mine did.”

Ivanova studied him carefully, frowning. “Do you think there's a connection?”

“Honestly? I wouldn't rule anything out,” Sinclair said. “But why would there be? And who could be doing it?”

“I'm not sure either of us want answers to those questions,” Ivanova replied with a smile.

“I think you're probably right.” He took another drink. “There's something else. Last night, just before you stopped by my quarters, I thought I saw...someone stood there. An alien, nothing like I've ever seen before. He was asking for help.”

Ivanova waited until he looked at her before speaking. “It wasn't a hallucination, of that I'm sure. You're the sanest person I know,” she said with conviction.

“Knowing some of the people you know, that isn't saying much,” Sinclair replied before smiling broadly. “But thank you.”

“If you find an answer to these dreams, I'd be interested in hearing it.”

“I'm as much in the dark as you are.”

“And the mystery of Epsilon III?”

“The same.”

She drained her cup and stared at the wall in front of her. “Commander, I have to ask...is Mr Garibaldi likely to do anything stupid? Just so I'm prepared.”

Sinclair sighed. “It's possible.”

“On a scale of one to you?”

He looked at her and tried unsuccessfully to not laugh. “I'll pretend I didn't hear that, Lieutenant Commander.”

Ivanova did manage to keep her face straight, however. “Of course, Commander.”

“Are you heading up to C&C?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I have a few things to do. I'll see you there shortly.” Sinclair stood but didn't leave. “Thanks for the coffee. And the talk.”

“Likewise. And any time.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

The survey ship had been launched and now it was just a matter of time to wait for them to do their thing and get back to the station, hopefully with a little more information. Ivanova was about to turn her attention to other things when she heard Tasaki say he was going further than she had told him to.

“Negative, Survey One, do _not_ go into the atmosphere,” she said, stressing the words carefully in the hopes he would understand.

_“Don't worry, Babylon Control, I'm not going far. Just enough to get some samples,”_ Tasaki replied in an easy manner.

“Do not, I repeat, do not go into the atmosphere!” Ivanova all but yelled.

Tasaki ignored her, and only seconds after he went further than he should have, missiles were fired from somewhere inside the planet, narrowly missing destroying the shuttle, but doing enough damage to strand the crew. Ivanova punched the console in front of her, ordering the fighter escort to fire in a wide angle pattern around the shuttle, ignoring Tasaki's protests.

“Hit your afterburners,” she told him. “That should get you outside of the atmosphere and then the fighters can give you a lift back.”

_“Roger that, Babylon Control.”_

There wasn't even a hint of apology in Tasaki's voice, no inkling that what he had done was wrong, and Ivanova decided it was time to make sure that by the time he got back to the station, he understand perfectly what position he was in.

“While you're waiting, I'd like you to take the time to commit the Babylon 5 mantra to memory.” Ivanova clasped her hands behind her back and began pacing in front her console. “Ivanova is always right. I will listen to Ivanova. I will not ignore Ivanova's recommendations. Ivanova is God.” She stopped and leant over the console. “And if this ever happens again, Ivanova will personally rip your lungs out!” She smiled sweetly even though the survey crew couldn't see her. “Babylon control out.” She closed her eyes and took a breath. “Civilians.” She then glanced upwards. “I was just kidding about that God part. No offence.”

Just for good measure, Ivanova turned to glare at the crew members on the command deck, knowing full well that even though they had obviously heard what had happened, they would pretend they hadn't.

And came face to face with Sinclair, who looked as though he too had heard what she had said and was making no attempt to pretend otherwise. His eyes shone with mischief and there was a definite smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Ivanova stood up as straight as possible, tugged at her jacket, and looked at him defiantly.

“Not one word, Commander,” she said quietly as she strode past.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

A short while later and they were both in Sinclair's office with Dr Tasaki, who was explaining about what they had found. Ivanova sat next to Tasaki, glaring magnificently at him while taking in everything he was saying. The geologist was completely oblivious and Sinclair was having a hard time not showing his great amusement at the situation. But despite the slight comedy aspect, he could see that Ivanova was truly distressed over what had happened; she took the safety of everyone on board the station very seriously, which was something else he admired about her.

“And if you'll follow me, I think we've solved the mystery,” Tasaki said, standing and walking over to the display to the left of Sinclair.

Ivanova also stood and walked around the other side of the desk, her path taking her behind Sinclair. The Commander deliberately waited until she was close to him before rising, deliberately waited until Tasaki had his back completely to them, and as Ivanova passed him, he grabbed her hand and squeezed it. She stopped, startled by his action, and he smiled reassuringly at him. His gaze flickered briefly to Tasaki and back to Ivanova again, then he nodded slightly. Ivanova felt some of the tension slide from her as she understood Sinclair's silent message. She squeezed his hand back before letting go, turning her attention back to the geologist's report. As Tasaki explained about the fissure they had discovered, she was very aware of Sinclair stood right behind her, so close she could feel the heat from his body, and it would have been no trouble at all to move back just a fraction to bring herself in contact with him....

“There's something down there,” Tasaki finished up.

Sinclair nodded. “Thank you, Doctor.” Tasaki nodded back and walked away, leaving the two officers alone. “Analysis.”

Ivanova didn't turn, didn't trust herself not to do something highly inappropriate if she did, so she started walking as she started talking. “We don't know what other long range weaponry might be down there. Until we know more, I'd definitely consider it a threat to station security.”

“Same here,” Sinclair said, and Ivanova jumped slightly as she came to a stop.

She hadn't realised how close her was behind her and although she didn't want to face him, she knew she had no choice. She clasped her hands behind her back as she turned, allowing herself to bask for a brief moment in the warmth of his expression when he saw her face. He had his hands in his pockets, and even though he stood like that often, she wondered if this time it was to stop himself from doing anything inappropriate. Ivanova had recently given up trying to convince herself it was all an illusion and that her feelings for Sinclair were one sided.

“It's also a potential first contact situation,” he continued after an indecently long silence. “I think we pretty much have to go down there and check it out, wouldn't you agree, Lieutenant Commander?”

Sinclair was all but grinning at her, and Ivanova couldn't help but respond in kind as she said, “Absolutely.”She bounced on her feet a little, a sure sign of her excitement, though she seemed as though she wanted to say something else.

“See you at the launch pad in about an hour?”

Ivanova nodded happily and left. Sinclair watched her go, continued to do so long after she had gone as was his custom now; his expression, if anyone else could have seen it, was a picture.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Even when paying for Londo's drink, Garibaldi still kept smiling. The Centauri ambassador never ceased to amaze him really, though that didn't mean he didn't want to kill him on occasion. AS he left he Zocalo, his link went off.

“Garibaldi.”

_“I need to see you in my office, Chief,”_ Sinclair said.

“Be there in ten.”

Sinclair wasn't actually there when Garibaldi arrived, so the security chief busied himself by studying the room. It was minimalistic, with a few personal items dotted about but nothing really that would give anyone any clue as to the personality of the commanding officer of the station. Garibaldi was pretty certain Sinclair had done it one purpose. Then his eyes fell on the large wall decoration, which had always confused him. A triangle, some circles, and some more circles. It was meaningless, but then he had never understood art. But now he thought about it, he couldn't remember how it had arrived in Sinclair's office. It didn't look Earth standard issue, and he was certain Sinclair himself hadn't put it there. His curiosity aroused, Garibaldi started to think about all possibilities when the Commander arrived.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Chief,” he said. “The geological survey team have turned up a fissure, created by one of the seismic disturbances, showing a possible artificial structure inside Epsilon III.”

Garibaldi widened his eyes briefly. “Interesting.” He then smiled a little. “I heard what happened when the team went down there. Ivanova was not happy, apparently.”

“No, she was not.”

Garibaldi glared at Sinclair and then turned to look at Ivanova. “Lieutenant Commander,” he said in greeting.

“Mr Garibaldi.” She turned to Sinclair. “The shuttle will be ready to go in about thirty minutes, Commander.”

“Shuttle?” Garibaldi looked from one to the other. “What shuttle?”

“We're going down to the planet to investigate,” Sinclair said, trying not to smile.

“You're going down? Both of you?” The security chief sighed. “I don't suppose there's any use me objecting, is there?”

“Not really, no.” Sinclair grinned then. “Just keep things together up here until we get back.”

“Maybe I can thin the ambassadors out a little,” Garibaldi muttered to himself, then held his hands up when the Commander glared at him. “Joking. You two just take care down there. You know, I'd feel a lot better if you took a security team with you.”

“Where would be the fun in that?” Ivanova remarked before leaving the office.

Garibaldi stared at her retreating back. “She's as bad as you are.”

Sinclair smirked. “I know.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Both Ivanova and Sinclair were quiet as they checked the display panels in the shuttle, making sure everything was ready for take off, but it was the silence of excitement, anticipation. Sinclair seemed to make it off the station more than Ivanova did, and so when they were cleared for launch, he looked at her and said, “Go ahead.”

Her answering smile lit up not only her face, but the entire cabin. “Really?”

“Take us down to Epsilon III, Lieutenant Commander Ivanova,” Sinclair replied, crossing his arms.

Ivanova's smile turned into a fully fledged grin. “Yes, sir, Commander Sinclair.”

He couldn't help but emit a short laugh while shaking her head. He had to admit, she piloted superbly, and he made a mental note to try to get her on more away missions when possible. The only time he helped was when missiles were launched from the planet and the accompanying StarFuries destroyed them.

“Let's hope Dr Tasaki was right about that fissure being five miles deep.”

Ivanova detected the note of panic in his voice and glanced sideways at him. “Why?” she asked, fighting to keep her own voice even.

“Because at our present speed, it's going to take us at least two miles to decelerate, assuming we don't hit anything on the way in,” he said dryly.

“It's a helluva time to think of that!” she exclaimed, glancing at her console. When she looked back at him, she found the son-of-a-bitch was grinning at her. “Why you....”

“Careful, Lieutenant Commander. It's against regulations to insult a senior officer.”

“Regulations be damned!” she retorted, but she was grinning anyway. Then, before there was any further banter between the two of them, she said, “There's the opening.”

Sinclair nodded. “Bring us in.” Ivanova piloted the shuttle to a landing pad, breathing heavily as the adrenaline flowed through her system. “Smooth,” he complimented her as they touched down. “Environmental analysis.”

Ivanova repeated what the display told her. “Good job we brought those breathers.”

“Life signs?” Sinclair asked, not really expecting there to be any but wanting to make sure just in case.

“None,” Ivanova replied happily. “We're alone.”

“All alone?” he couldn't help but ask.

“All alone,” she confirmed, holding his gaze.

It was the opportunity both had been waiting for since the moment they first saw each other; it seemed to be the moment they had been waiting for all their lives. Yet as much as they both wanted it, it was too soon. They were still getting to know one another, still working on a friendship outside their professional relationship, as well as building trust and loyalty in the line of duty. It was galling in a way, to have everything they wanted right in front of them, but not being able to take it.

Without warning, Sinclair reached over and gently brushed Ivanova's cheek with his fingers. “One day,” he said quietly. Then he unbuckled his harness. “Alright, let's check it out.”

Both grinned at each other, the excitement of a new situation overpowering the disappointment they both felt at not being able, or not wanting, to take advantage of the place they found themselves in. Sinclair handed out the equipment to Ivanova, who put on her breather, holstered a PPG and checked the flash light while he did the same.

“Ready?”

Ivanova nodded. “When you are.”

They set off from the shuttle with no real idea of where they were going, both silently hoping they didn't get lost down there as the maze of corridors and catacombs seemed to be extensive, almost never ending. It was clear someone had made the passages, but whoever they were and whatever happened to them remained a mystery. There were no signs of recent activity anywhere, yet Sinclair had the distinct feeling of being watched. Ivanova had wandered out in front and suddenly shouted.

“Commander!”

He rushed to her side and saw the body she was pointing out to him. The corpse was old, the flesh having completely disintegrated from the bones, yet the armour and weapon were still intact, untouched by the traces of time, looking as if they had just been put there recently. There was nothing much to be gained from studying the corpse and so Ivanova started moving again.

“Wait!” Sinclair said, his tone urgent.

He reached for her to stop her from going any further and she looked down in surprise when his hand took a hold of hers quite firmly. At first she thought it was just coincidence until she looked up at his face and saw him grinning almost boyishly at her. There was such warmth and sincerity in his gaze and his touch that Ivanova actually felt herself blush and she quietly cursed herself, and him, in Russian. Sinclair's smile actually grew wider as he squeezed her hand, then let go.

“Wait,” he repeated, his tone just as urgent, and she obeyed as he scanned the area, picking up several rocks and throwing them down the corridor. Flashes blinded them as hidden weapons obliterated the rocks.

“Three seconds recharge,” Ivanova said after several attempts at working out the defence mechanism.

Sinclair looked down the corridor, gauging the distance. “Can you make that in three seconds?”

Ivanova nodded. “Yes, sir,” she replied confidently.

“Get ready.”

As soon as the mechanism stopped firing, they both broke into a sprint. Sinclair heard the air crackle around them just as they reached the end of the corridor and with a spike of dread, he realised they weren't going to make it. Reaching out, he gave Ivanova a solid push, throwing himself on the ground after her. The air around them broke with the sound of weapons firing again and he was certain he could feel the heat of the shots through his uniform. Even when it had all stopped, they still lay there breathing hard.

“Are you alright?” Sinclair asked.

“I think so.” Ivanova smiled at him. “You push hard, sir.”

“Sorry.”

“Don't be. You saved my life.”

He could have stayed there indefinitely, enthralled by the way she was looking at him, but the ground was actually quite uncomfortable and they did have a job to do. Pushing himself to his feet, Sinclair extended his hand to Ivanova, both holding on longer than they needed to.

“This way, I think,” Ivanova said, bringing their attention back to the mission.

Sinclair followed her down a short bit of corridor, then they both saw light up ahead and moved towards it. Neither was prepared for what they saw next; a 'cavern' was the mildest understatement they could have used. It was huge, extending up and down further than they could see, the walls lined with technology they couldn't even begin to understand, and across the gap was a bridge which, though not narrow by any stretch of the imagination, was nowhere near wide enough for Ivanova's liking. Or Sinclair's for that matter.

As they began to make their way tentatively across the bridge, Ivanova said, “Commander, I think I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Tell me about it,” Sinclair replied in a tone of wonder. He was so mesmerised by what he was seeing that he jumped when he felt something touching his hand, and he looked down to see Ivanova holding him in a death grip, her knuckles white.

“It's a long way down,” she said by way of explanation.

Sinclair just nodded and carried on walking. “Tell me about it.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“What do you mean, you can't get through?” Garibaldi demanded to know. He was gripping the railing of the command deck tightly, a cold feeling settling in his gut. He had been called up to C&C a short while ago, when communications had been lost with Sinclair and Ivanova.

“I'm sorry, sir, we just can't get through to them,” a technician replied.

Garibaldi turned with pacing in mind when Talia came to the door. “I need to talk to you,” she said quietly.

“Let me know the minute we hear anything,” the security chief ordered.

Down on the planet, Sinclair and Ivanova had reached the other side of the bridge and had stopped to catch their breath. “I suppose we'd better check in with Babylon Control,” he said. “Garibaldi will be ready for tearing the planet apart himself if we don't.”

On the station, Garibaldi's link went off. _“Mr Garibaldi, we're getting a signal through.”_

He was still processing what Talia had – or hadn't, as the case was – told him about Lise. With a forced smile through a grim expression, he strode onto the command deck, relief washing over him as he heard Sinclair's voice...and dammit, he sounded like he was having the time of his life down there. An unbidden thought flitted through Garibaldi's mind. Sinclair and Ivanova were alone down there...all alone. He had seen the looks even when there were none, and despite what both of them said, there was more between them than just comraderie or even friendship.

“Sir, we're picking up more seismic activity,” a technician said.

“How bad?” Garibaldi asked over his shoulder.

“Bad, sir.”

“Jeff, you've gotta clear out. Do you hear me? Get out of there!”

But all he got in response was static.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair and Ivanova heard the rumble seconds before Garibaldi's shouted warning, and they began to run. Behind them they could hear rock falling and instinct propelled Sinclair forward. He caught Ivanova around the waist and threw them both once again to the ground, his body covering hers as he sheltered her from the flying rubble.

“Now Mr Garibaldi will be worrying,” Ivanova commented, and Sinclair could only nod in response. “I think it's over.”

“Let's hope you're right.” He then realised he was half lay on top of her. Part of him was registering how comfortable the position was, while another part said he should really move. At that point, a third part pointed out that Ivanova hadn't yet asked him to move, and he told them all to shut up. Rolling off her, he pushed himself to his feet and once more held out his hand to her. “I hope I didn't hurt you.”

Ivanova pulled herself and smiled gratefully. “Not at all. In fact, that's the second time you've saved my life today, Commander.”

“I wasn't aware you were keeping track,” Sinclair replied, then swayed slightly.

Ivanova caught his arm. “Are you alright?”

“Just a bump on the head. I'll be fine.” He shook his flash light. “I think this one's had it.”

Ivanova swung her working light around the rest of the corridor, then stopped when she saw something. It was an alien, or at least the image of him, and he was pointing. Then he disappeared. She turned to Sinclair. “Did you see that?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yeah, and back on the station too.”

The relief in his voice was obvious and Ivanova smiled at him. “See? I told you that you were sane.”

“Thanks. I think.” He started forward. “This way.”

A few moments later, then entered a small cavern, and on the far wall was the alien in some sort of machine. His eyes were shut but he seemed to sense their presence and opened the lids halfway. “Help me or your people, all your people, will die.”

Sinclair and Ivanova stared at each other for a moment. “Help me get him out of this.”

“We don't have a lot of time,” Ivanova pointed out. “And we've got to find another way back to the shuttle before we run out of air, if we can.”

“We can't just leave him like this,” Sinclair said, a little more harshly than he intended.

But Ivanova didn't take offence. In fact, she smiled as she helped him. “I know, it's a Russian thing,” she explained. “Before we're about to do something stupid, we like to catalogue the full extent of our stupidity, for future reference.” She caught his eye and grinned.

Sinclair regarded her for a moment before smiling back. “I like it.”

Together they lifted an arm each over their shoulders, one of Ivanova's hands going to support the alien's midsection while Sinclair's went to his chest. He was weak, barely able to stand unaided, let alone walk, and both wondered how they were going to get him and themselves back to the shuttle in one piece. In fact, they weren't sure how to get back to the shuttle at all. Their other arms reached around the alien's back to help keep him upright and as they did so, their hands touched. But instead of shying away, they boldly laced their fingers together. For better support, they would say, should anyone ever ask. And through the breathers, ignoring the being between them, they smiled at each other.

“Erm, Commander?”

“Yes?”

“Which way?”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Garibaldi was pacing agitatedly up and down the front of the command deck, unaware that the rest of the crew would have actually preferred Ivanova's presence at that time to his. “Anything yet?” he asked for the tenth time in the last minute.

“Nothing, sir.”

“Come on, Jeff, Ivanova. Come on,” Garibaldi muttered to himself.

“Sir, we're getting a signal!” a technician exclaimed.

“Put it through.”

_“Shuttle One to Babylon Control,”_ Sinclair said, his voice calm and even.

“C&C here,” Garibaldi replied with relief. “You guys okay?”

_“We're fine, Michael, we're coming out. Order the fighters to give us some cover fire and have Dr Franklin meet us with a med team in the docking bay.”_

“You got it.” He turned to pass on the order for the fighters, then turned back to watch the shuttle ascending.

“We've got a ship coming through the jumpgate,” someone announced.

“Fine.”

“Mr Garibaldi, it's big,” the technician told him.

Garibaldi frowned and looked at the display in front of him. “What the hell...?”

TBC


	16. 114 A Voice in the Wilderness Pt 2

_June 2258_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“We've got a ship coming through the jumpgate,” someone announced.

“Fine.”

“Mr Garibaldi, it's big,” the technician told him.

Garibaldi frowned and looked at the display in front of him. “What the hell...? That's an Earth Alliance heavy cruiser.” He turned his head. “Patch me through.”

The conversation with the captain was short and blunt, and left a bad taste in the security chief's mouth. He could feel his shoulders bunching in response to Pierce's arrogance and he could see trouble ahead very easily if the captain didn't change his attitude while around Babylon 5.

“Jeff's gonna love this,” Garibaldi muttered to himself, before turning to face the technician. “Let me know the second Commander Sinclair's shuttle docks.”

“Yes, sir.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova and Sinclair had hardly spoken on the way back from Epsilon III, their stolen moments almost all but forgotten in the intensity of the current situation they found themselves in. Only a few days ago, they were certain the planet they were inhabiting was deserted, uninhabited, and completely safe. Now they had discovered it was none of those things, and suddenly they had a quarter of a million lives resting on what may happen next. It was a sobering thought for anyway, but Ivanova felt she had to say something, and she turned away from the alien they had rescued for a moment to make a light-hearted comment to Sinclair...just in time to see his shoulders hunch and his seated posture stiffen. And then she saw why.

“What the...?” she began to say, her brow creasing into a deep frown. “Is that a heavy cruiser?”

“Looks like it.”

“Did we...?”

“No.”

“Are we...?”

“I don't know.”

Sinclair then looked over his shoulder at Ivanova and smiled at the same time she did. It was good to have a conversation were full sentences weren't needed yet they both knew what they were talking about. He piloted the shuttle into the docking area and was pleased to see Franklin waiting for them. He and Ivanova helped the alien out and had just relinquished care of him to the doctor when Sinclair's link went off.

“Sinclair.”

_“Commander, we have a problem. A Captain Pierce has arrived to...assume control of the situation,”_ Garibaldi reported, the chagrin in his voice very evident. _“He'll be arriving on the station shortly.”_

“Thanks, Chief.” Sinclair stabbed his link and took several deep breaths to calm himself, jumping slightly when he felt a hand on his arm. He looked down to see Ivanova looking up, her expression full of concern.

“Problem?”

Sinclair looked around and realised they were once again alone. “You could say that.” Instinctively, he covered her hand with his.

“Captain Pierce? You know him?”

“Not personally.”

“But you can guess what he's like.”

Sinclair nodded. “Susan, I may have to ask you to follow some difficult orders. I may not, I'm not yet, it depends on how this unfolds, and....”

“Not a problem.”

Sinclair raised his eyebrows and looked at her. “Not a problem?”

She shook her head. “Not a problem,” she repeated, then sighed at the unspoken question in his eyes. “My loyalty to you, whatever you decide, will never be an issue. I know that whatever you do, you do for the greater good. I might not agree with it personally, but professionally, you are the senior officer and I respect you as such, and I will follow your orders or make sure they are followed by the right people no matter what it takes.” Before Sinclair could burst with pride, Ivanova continued. “Now, would you like to me to go to med lab with patient while you deal with Pierce?”

“Thanks,” Sinclair said dryly as they separated.

“Or you could go to med lab while I deal with Pierce,” she suggested.

He tried not to smile at that idea. “Tempting.” He pretended to think about it. “Maybe later. No, Lieutenant Commander, I need you in C&C keeping tabs on this situation. If anything changes on the planet below, I want to know about it. And I want to know the second Pierce steps foot on this station.”

“Yes, sir. Anything else?”

He pulled a face. “I'll let you know.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Find any clues as to what's happening down there?” Garibaldi asked as soon as Ivanova set foot on the command deck.

“Not exactly, but the alien we found down there could well have some answers,” she replied, instantly going to a console to update herself on what had been happening.

“And the technology?”

“Incredible.”

Garibaldi came to stand close beside her. “Anything else happen down there?” he asked quietly.

Ivanova raised her head slowly and stared blankly at him. “Such as?” The security chief just shrugged. He had doubted such blunt tactics would work but it was worth a shot. “Anything else happen up here?”

“Apart from that?” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at the Earth cruiser, whose presence could still be felt despite being out of direct line of sight. “Nothing much.” His shoulders sagged a little. “Still no word from Mars.”

Ivanova's expression turned sympathetic. “I'm sorry.”

“Where's the Commander?” he inquired after acknowledging her words with a brief nod.

“Down in med lab with the alien we rescued, waiting for Captain Pierce comes on board.”

Garibaldi pulled a face. “Yeah, about that....”

“He's only just arrived, Mr Garibaldi,” Ivanova said. “Surely there can't be problems already.”

“You'd be surprised. Take a look at the message he sent when he came through the gate,” Garibaldi replied. “And afterwards, if you know what's good for you, don't show it to the Commander.”

Ivanova winced. “That bad?”

“He makes you look diplomatic,” Garibaldi said with a straight face. “And it's only going to get worse, let me tell you.”

“Lieutenant Commander, a message coming in from the Hyperion,” a technician said.

“Put it through.”

_“Babylon Control, this is Captain Pierce of the Hyperion. I'll be coming on board shortly. Have Commander Sinclair meet me in the briefing room. Hyperion out.”_

“Told you,” Garibaldi remarked before walking off.

Ivanova could only stare at the blank screen in surprise, her hackles bristling slightly at the way Pierce had said 'Commander'. It seemed both Sinclair and Garibaldi were right; this was going to be nothing but trouble, and she briefly considered moving her quarters down to Epsilon III. She figured that even with the seismic activity, it would be a lot quieter than up on the station.

Sighing, Ivanova tapped her console, watching the message Garibaldi had referred to before she contacted Sinclair. “Captain Pierce is coming on board,” she said, choosing her next words carefully. “He'll meet you in the briefing room.”

_“On my way,”_ Sinclair replied, and she could tell with his tone that he was not happy at all. In fact, when he contacted her again a few moments later, she wasn't at all surprised. _“Anything else?”_

Ivanova wasn't going to ask how he had known she was hiding something; obviously she still had work to do on her poker face. “Only that the message he sent upon arrival was a little...blunt, to say the least. And his attitude stinks. I think he's looking forward to controlling this situation. And you.”

_“That's what I thought,”_ Sinclair replied unhappily. _“Alright, let me hear it.”_

Ivanova played the recording back to him, then waited for his reply. After an indecently long time and no answer was forthcoming, she tentatively said, “Commander?”

_“By God, if I ever find out who's responsible for this....”_ he all but growled in reply, making her swallow at the venom in his voice even though it wasn't directed at her.

“Want me to start looking?” she offered.

_“No. Keep monitoring the planet, and the Hyperion. I want to know the second anything changes anywhere. I'll deal with Pierce.”_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair was fuming as he strode through the corridors of the station, anyone who found themselves in his path melting out of his way instantly. As if they didn't have enough to worry about without the Hyperion showing up, and as for Pierce.... Sinclair had dealt with many officers like him, those who thought they were better because they held a higher rank and he was still only a Commander. Still. Only. It stung him, eating away at him like acid in his gut.

_“Smart money was you'd make Admiral one day. So what happened...Commander?”_ The Knight's taunt came back to him. At the time, his words had angered him, not because he was trying to belittle him, but because it was true. Sinclair had fallen off the merry-go-round at some point. Something had happened, but he was damned if he knew what it was.

Pierce wasn't in the briefing room. Sinclair was a second away from contacting Ivanova to find out what the hell was going on when he reminded himself this wasn't her fault. If he had spoken to her at that moment, then any progress they had made would have been lost. He forced himself to calm down ever so slightly, then turned on his heel and headed out of the room; he knew exactly where Pierce would be.

He entered his office, saw Pierce stood by a display listening to information on the station, and carried on walking until he was in the centre of the room. The look the Captain had given him when he entered told him so much, and he knew there was no chance he was going to play this one diplomatically. Pierce turned off the display and walked towards Sinclair, trying to make small talk as he went, but the Commander wasn't having any of it. He wasn't impressed by this man, his ship, or his rank, and he didn't take any pains to hide that fact. He was diplomatic, he wasn't polite; hell, he wasn't even nice, and he didn't care. He might have been asked not to put himself in any physical danger, but his reckless side still needed to be indulged, and this was as good a way as any to do that, although physical risk might have actually been safer. After making it perfectly clear who was in charge – for the time being, at least – Sinclair decided the conversation was over.

“Enjoy the accommodations, Captain. I'll do everything I can to make sure your stay here is a brief one,” he said, his voice starting to shake with suppressed rage. “That's all.”

Pierce was paling with anger, his fists clenched at his sides, and Sinclair expected him to force the issue. Instead, he seemed to accept defeat, though not happily at all, and stormed out. Sinclair waited for a few moments, then turned and rested his hands on his desk and bowed his head. He didn't like having to be like that with anyone, but more than that, he hated being the last to know what was going on, when really he should be the first. The command was his, the station was his; jurisdiction over the entire sector was his, so why did no one ever think it necessary to tell him what was going on? He heard footsteps and his anger bubbled to the surface again.

“Captain, I will not...,” he started to say, raising his head but otherwise unmoving. But instead of Pierce, his gaze locked with sharp blue.

Ivanova had come for an update, and to see if there was a bloody mess needing to be cleaned up, but she had not expected to see Sinclair looking so outraged and despondent at the same time. His guard fell away briefly when he looked at her, and it pained her to see him looking so vulnerable. But what hurt her more was when he turned away, shoulders hunched with tension as he stared resolutely at the desk. Ivanova knew she should go, knew she shouldn't invade Sinclair's private space, but her feet refused to move. In fact, when they did decide to move, it was in the wrong direction. She walked towards him slowly, quietly, but she knew he was aware of her approach. Tentatively, she reached up and put her hands on his shoulders, then feeling bold, she laid her head between his shoulder blades.

“I'm here. You're not alone. Never alone.”

Something stirred in Sinclair at those words, like a long ago memory yet to happen. He felt conflicted, unused to people being near him when he was angry, unused to wanting them near. No one had ever invaded his personal space in such a way, not even Catherine, yet it felt right. More than right, and slowly, he brought one of his hands up to cover one of Ivanova's. She took it as acceptance and continued to stand like that for a few moments, comforting him, giving him strength, all the while keeping her ears open for the sound of someone approaching. Eventually, Sinclair started to stand up and Ivanova made to move away, but found her hand anchored in place on his shoulder.

“Sometimes I wonder if it's all worth it.”

“It has to be,” Ivanova replied. “If we give up, what's left?”

Sinclair closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath, allowing calm to wash over him. After a moment, he squeezed Ivanova's hand and let go, allowing her to move. “Was there something, Lieutenant Commander?” he asked, turning around to face her.

As Ivanova looked at his face, she saw some of the anger had died, his usual good-natured self reasserting itself, but she felt sure that something more was going on than just Pierce's presence on the station. What it was, however, seemed destined to remain a mystery. For now, at least. “I just thought I'd see if there was another more on Dr Franklin's patient,” she said. “And I thought I might have to help you hide the remains of Captain Pierce.”

Sinclair gave her a disapproving look, marred by his apparent amusement at her statement. “It seem he's been ordered here by the office of Planetary Security to take control of the situation, to keep the other races under control, to stop things from becoming...messy. He also asked for an update on the _prisoner_.”

Ivanova just stared at him. “And he's still breathing? Got the use of both legs?” She shook her head in astonishment. “I don't suppose you're going to let me near him, are you.” It definitely wasn't a question.

“As much chance of that happening as there is of watching a Vorlon do a striptease.”

“Is that Mr Garibaldi I hear?”

Sinclair smiled. “The question is, did I learn it from him or did Michael learn it from me?”

“That settles it,” Ivanova said. “Finish up whatever paperwork should have been done yesterday, then go to your quarters for a bit. Have some quiet time. Rest.”

“Lieutenant Commander...,” Sinclair started to object.

Ivanova held her hand up. “I mean it, Commander. Don't make me relieve you of duty. Just do what you need to and take some time out. While you can. I'll let you know if anything happens.”

“Alright,” he surrendered.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova busied herself with tasks when she returned to the command deck, trying hard to forget about the imminent doom they were all in, and the intimate moment she had shared with Sinclair. It seemed strange to her that one moment they were so close, the next light years apart. She supposed it was better that way; at least no one could say their behaviour was unbecoming of an officer, or that their conduct put the rest of the crew and the station in danger. Not that they were breaking any rules or regulations anyway, Ivanova reminded herself. But if they were.... She shook her head. It was stress, nothing more, that was why her mind was wandering more than usual. To distract herself, Ivanova checked the display for the time: a couple of hours since she told Sinclair to go to his quarters for a while, and knowing him, he would still be sat in his office. Checking there was nothing that needed her immediate attention, she started across the deck, only to stop after a few paces. Yes, good way to distract herself...by going to see the man she couldn't stop thinking about. Shaking her head again, Ivanova returned to her station just as a call from security came in.

_“Officer Welch to C &C.”_

“C&C online. Problem, Officer Welch?”

_“Could be, Lieutenant Commander. Commander Sinclair there?”_

“Not right now,” Ivanova replied. “Something I can help you with?”

_“We just had a complaint in...about the Chief,”_ Welch replied, obviously uncomfortable.

Ivanova tried not to sigh. “Tell me.”

A few moments later, she found herself in the doorway to Sinclair's office, the man himself still hunched over his desk as she knew he would be. He looked up and smiled somewhat guiltily at her. “I've almost finished....”

Ivanova just rolled her eyes. “Actually, Commander, there's another matter I need to bring to your attention before I kick you out of your office. It's somewhat...delicate.”

Sinclair, on the verge of retorting to her threat to throw him out, frowned in concern. “Oh?”

“I just had a call from Officer Welch. Apparently Mr Garibaldi just attacked someone down in the Zocalo.”

“Serious?”

“Not really. The guy will have a headache for a day or two.”

Realisation dawned instantly on Sinclair and it showed in his expression. “Ah, the magic trick.”

Ivanova just looked at him. “Sir?”

“Never mind. Do you know why Michael attacked him?”

She nodded. “Apparently they were saying that the heavy handedness being used to put down the Mars rebellion was well deserved, and they even went as far as to suggest some...harsher methods.”

Sinclair sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, that would get Garibaldi going all right.” He shook his head. “I'll try to check on him again later. Did the guy press charges?”

“No, sir.”

“That's something I suppose. Anything else?”

“Yes, Commander. Out. Now.”

He just smiled at her. “I'm going.”

“That was too easy.”

“I want to talk to Senator Hidoshi in private.”

She rolled her eyes once more at him. “I knew there was a reason.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Once Ivanova was certain Sinclair was out of the way, she returned to the command deck, contacted Franklin to tell him to send any updates on the patient to her and not Sinclair, and then put her feet up for a while, taking full advantage of the brief lull in the storm. There was no doubt in her mind that the possibility of them all dying very soon was extremely real, and she already knew if that was going to happen, she would be staying on the station. With Sinclair. Where she belonged. There was no way she would be leaving, although she suspected Sinclair wouldn't agree with her on that score. But if he wanted her off the station, he would have to physically throw her off himself, and she didn't fight fair. She wanted to contact Garibaldi, to see how he was doing, but she suspected he was better off being left alone and that if anyone should talk to him, it would be Sinclair. Her mind then turned to the alien they had rescued; they didn't even know his name yet. She thought of all the things he could tell them, and how strange it was to know he had been there for so long and they didn't have a clue at all. Not one inkling that the planet they were orbiting was inhabited.

And then, as they always did, her thoughts turned to Sinclair, and how his 'discussion' with Senator Hidoshi was going. Ivanova already knew that the Commander wasn't a very popular figure in certain government circles, for whatever reason, but since putting Orin Zento's nose out of the joint over the dockers' strike and Bester in his place over the Ironheart situation, his popularity had plummeted further. Deep down, she felt she knew why but it wasn't something she could ever put into words. And once again, Ivanova wondered why a Commander was put in charge of such a prominent outpost. Sinclair was more than capable, she had seen that first hand, which led her to wonder why he was still a Commander; surely taking charge of Babylon 5 should have earned him a promotion if nothing else. She had a strange feeling that was the source of much of his anger, and being career military herself, she couldn't blame him at all. Even though she had only recently been promoted to Lieutenant Commander, Ivanova hoped the next promotion wouldn't be too far off. But that tore her completely in two; to be offered and to accept a promotion would mean she would have to leave Babylon 5, and Sinclair. But being posted somewhere else would mean the frat regs wouldn't be in force...she hoped.

“Lieutenant Commander, ships are departing the Hyperion,” a technician told her.

Ivanova's feet came off the railing, hit the floor, and she stood straight up in one fluid motion. “What?! Going where?”

“Six ships, shuttles and StarFuries, heading to the planet surface.”

Extremely quietly, under her breath, Ivanova swore in Russian, then stabbed her console viciously. There was a quite a delay until Sinclair finally responded, _“Yes?”_ in an exasperated tone, and she hated having to disturb him after making such a show of sending him to his quarters.

“Something's happening down on Epsilon III, Commander. You'd better come take a look.”

The tone of her voice was enough to convince Sinclair it was serious, but still he sighed. _“On my way.”_ He was still putting his jacket back on half way down the corridor, finally fastening it in the transport tube.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

After preventing the Hyperion ships from going down to the planet, Ivanova explained about the increase in seismic activity. Sinclair took his hands out of his pockets and instinctively went to lay one in the small of her back, stopping himself just in time. She was worried, he could tell, and so was he. It was the worst situation they had found themselves in since coming onto Babylon 5, and it wasn't something that could be sorted with quick words and manipulation of any kind. It was a planet that was set to blow, and they were orbiting it.

“What do we do?” Ivanova asked quietly, and Sinclair was aware he hadn't spoken for a while.

“What we can,” he replied, catching her eye. “Carry on as normal, assure everyone that everything is status quo. Stop...certain people from making things worse.”

“Want me to arm the defence grid, sir?”

Sinclair smiled. “Not just yet. I have the feeling we'll be needing the Hyperion before this is over.”

“With or without her Captain?” Ivanova caught the glare he sent her way and looked slightly sheepish. “Sorry.”

“Just keep scanning the planet, keep trying to find an answer.” He sighed. “That's about all we can do.” He smiled again, but it was weary. “Why don't you take a couple of hours off, Lieutenant Commander? You've been on duty for hours already without a break, and who knows when you'll get the next one?”

Ivanova wasn't about to argue with him, but she had one proviso. “As long as you take the same amount of time off.”

“Well I was trying to do that when I rudely interrupted.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about, Commander.”

“Of course not. Alright, a couple of hours. Both of us. Satisfied?”

Ivanova held his gaze for a full moment before allowing a mischievous smile to spread across her face. “Would you care to re-examine that statement, sir?” she asked, before turning smartly on her heel and walking off the command deck. Sinclair could only stare after her helplessly.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Garibaldi was trying to pay attention to what was going on, as he knew the situation was fast approaching critical...or perhaps it had already gone past that point. Ivanova was explaining about the layout of the structure under the surface on Epsilon III and he caught the words 'fusion reactors' but that was about it. When Sinclair had contacted him and ordered him to report to his office, Garibaldi had been in the middle of doing his job, and it took him longer than normal to make his way up to them. By the time he arrived, Sinclair and Ivanova were similarly clothed, in that both were jacketless, both sat like mirror images of each other, one either side of the desk with their hands resting on the surface. Garibaldi watched them for a few moments from the doorway, wondering was it was that had drawn them together. He kept telling himself he didn't have a problem with their relationship, whatever direction it might take, and for the most part, he didn't. But he couldn't help the slight urge of jealousy he felt, that someone was taking his one true friend away. When Sinclair had been with other women, it was fine, because they didn't understand the job. But Ivanova was different; she knew exactly what it was like to be in the military, and to be stationed on Babylon 5, and she could relate to Sinclair in a way no other woman, not even Catherine, could. Catherine...Garibaldi wondered if his old friend had heard anything from her, but he doubted it. Knowing Catherine, she would just arrive back on the fire in a blaze of fire, possibly quite literally. But for what? Garibaldi wasn't stupid. He knew Sinclair cared deeply for Ivanova, and he knew those feelings were reciprocated. He also knew there was something more at work in their lives; it was nothing he could put his finger on, but it there, like a shadow at the edge of his vision. Change was going, he could feel it, and the direction their futures would all take was something he couldn't predict, and he hated not being in control. Garibaldi shifted his gaze form Ivanova to Sinclair and back again, and idly wondered if they would notice if he left. Somehow he thought not. Jealousy surged in his throat like bile and he physically swallowed. He knew what part of his problem was: Lise. He had waited so long to call her, now perhaps it was too long. He wanted her back in his life, wanted what Ivanova and Sinclair had, but denied. Wanted to be happy, not just to pretend.

Sinclair's attention was focussed quite firmly on Ivanova, mainly because of the report she was giving, but out of the corner of his eye, he was watching Garibaldi and he could see his old friend was troubled, and not just about Lise either. But it wasn't the time to broach the subject with him, and if things went badly, it wouldn't matter anyway.

“How long would it take to evacuate the station?”

Garibaldi was smart enough to know when he was being addressed, and he took a moment to shift his thoughts from where they had been to the question Sinclair had just asked him. “We're talking half a million humans and aliens,” he said, even though they all knew that. “Even if we called in every ship in the sector, it would still take at least three to five days.” Before he had finished talking, Sinclair had looked back to Ivanova and Garibaldi fought the urge to shout at both of them.

They talked about Pierce and the security chief found himself more than less interested. His mind kept drifting back to Lise and though he wanted to believe she was alright, he was finding it hard to keep his faith, especially with what was happening on the station. Sinclair and Ivanova had roles to play, things they could be doing; Garibaldi was at a loose end and he hated it.

“You still with us, Chief?”

Ivanova's voice brought him back to reality once more and he cursed himself for his inattention. He almost made a snappy remark back but stopped himself in time. “Sorry. It's just...a lot to take in, you know?”

Ivanova nodded and didn't press the matter, Sinclair looked at his friend sympathetically. “We were just wondering why this didn't start when we went down to the surface,” he said.

“There was still someone running the show,” Garibaldi replied. “The guy you brought back.”

Ivanova turned her full attention to him. “Exactly, and as long as he remains unconscious, the system keeps running on automatic, heading towards self destruct, without any one to stop it.”

“Alright we'll give it another 12 hours, see if we can find a way around this thing. If not we'll evacuate the station, try to get as many as we can out,” Sinclair told them.

Garibaldi looked from Sinclair to Ivanova and back again, slightly incredulous but knowing they had no other choice. “It'll be a panic. They'll stampede the dock areas.”

Sinclair nodded wearily. “I know. We'll hold back making an announcement as long as possible, but you'd better go ahead and tell your own people, this could get messy. Get something to eat, try to catch an hour or two of sleep, we've got a long road ahead of us.” He nodded to both of them, a sign the meeting was over, and tried to catch Garibaldi's eye to get him to stay, but he was out of the room in a flash.

“Mr Garibaldi seems unusually preoccupied,” Ivanova noted as she took her jacket from the back of the chair and slung it over her shoulder.

Sinclair nodded again. “I'm not surprised.” He stared at the doorway as though willing his old friend to walk back through it, then realised Ivanova was watching him. “It's to do with a woman. She's on Mars.”

Understanding dawned instantly on her face. “Ah. I see.” She was silent for a moment. “There seems to be something more, though.”

Sinclair sat back a little. “Oh?”

Ivanova looked around the office, then back at him. “Permission to speak freely, sir.”

“Granted, as always.”

“Garibaldi seemed extremely preoccupied about...us.”

“We haven't done anything wrong,” Sinclair replied quietly, leaning forward so his voice wouldn't carry as far.

“That's not exactly true, is it?” Ivanova replied, sitting back down on the edge of her seat.

It was the closest either of them had come to admitting how they felt to one another, and they both knew it was the hopelessness of the situation that was making them be more open. It was dangerous but both were close to not bothering any more.

Sinclair's throat tightened. “Susan....”

For a moment it looked as though she would stay, that they would have a moment to remember. But it passed and she stood somewhat abruptly. “So if we go down there it blows, if we don't it blows anyway, just a little later. It's a good thing I'm Russian, we're used to hopeless situations.”

Sinclair smiled sadly as he watched her go; the double meaning of her words was not lost on him.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Despite his advice to his senior officers, Sinclair couldn't bring himself to go to his quarters and rest, though he did drag himself down to the mess hall to eat. He knew he should check in with Franklin and inform the doctor of what was happening, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Garibaldi's behaviour was weighing heavily on his mind and after he had eaten, he made his way to his old friend's quarters.

“Jeff! What are you doing in this part of town?” Garibaldi asked in surprise, forcing a smile when Sinclair walked into his quarters. He didn't want to see anybody, especially not his friend and commanding officer; he was having a hard time keeping everything together and didn't trust himself to hold his tongue.

“Just thought I'd stop by, see how you were doing,” Sinclair replied, putting his hands in his pockets.

Garibaldi shrugged. “Fine, fine. Want something to eat?” He gestured to the pizza box on the table.

Sinclair shook his head. “No thanks, I grabbed something in the mess hall. Look, Michael, I heard what happened down in the Zocalo....”

It was too much and though he knew he shouldn't say anything, the security chief wasn't about to have the Commander lecture him about this behaviour and professional conduct. “Never mind that, what about you and Ivanova, huh? What's going on there, Jeff? Really? In that meeting earlier, you couldn't take your eyes off each other! And you're never apart. I know you gotta work together, but that's more than just professionalism.” He had jumped to his feet and was starting to pace agitatedly, his anger pouring off him in waves. “You should get her transferred to another outpost, Jeff. Get her re-assigned and out of the way then neither of you are tempted, because Ivanova's just as bad as you are. This'll ruin both your careers if you're not careful, and I though I get the feeling sometimes that you've given up on yours, I'm sure as hell she hasn't given up on hers!” He stopped and squared up to Sinclair. “Goddammit, Jeff, you should know better, yet you're acting like a school kid with his first crush!”

“That's enough!” Sinclair snapped, his voice reverberating loudly around the room.

Garibaldi stared at him, anger still clouding his judgement, until he saw the look on Sinclair's face and realised he was only seconds away from having his face rearranged by his superior officer. Calming himself, he took a step back and raised his hands in surrender. “I'm sorry, Jeff, that was way out of line.” He sat down suddenly, deflated. “It's just...I'm worried sick about Lise. I can't find her, no one can, and I don't know if she's alive or dead! She's the only woman I've ever...who I've ever truly loved and wanted to spend the rest of my life with, and....” He shook his head. “And I feel completely useless right now with this whole situation. I mean, the planet we're parked next to is about to blow; what am I supposed to do, arrest it? Arrest Pierce for having an ego bigger than his brain?”

Sinclair cracked a smile. “I think you've been spending too much time around Ivanova.”

“Jeff, I know I overstepped the mark. And I know you would never jeopardise Ivanova's career or your own. And I know we've talked about this before, but seriously, whatever you think isn't going on, your eyes – and hers – say different. Tread carefully. Tread very carefully. You know we both hear things from back home, not all of it's good. So watch your back, okay?”

“I will,” Sinclair said, nodding. “Listen, there's some brass stationed on Mars that owe me a few favours. I think it's time I called them in. Whatever it takes, Michael, I'll get you a clear channel through and we'll find your friend.”

Sinclair could actually see the weight lifting from Garibaldi as he spoke. “Yeah? That'd be great, thanks, Jeff.”

“And I have a favour to ask.”

“Anything.”

“In the case of an evacuation, some of us will have to stay until the end...you know....”

Garibaldi closed his eyes briefly and nodded in understanding. “Right.”

“Anyway, I want you to make sure Ivanova leaves the station. She'll want to stay, but....” Sinclair swallowed. “She's got her whole life ahead of her.”

Garibaldi could see the pain on his friend's face and it in turn pained him as he could do nothing to help him. “She'll be on the transport even if I have to throw her on as the doors are closing.”

“I also want you on that transport. That's an order,” Sinclair said, cutting off Garibaldi's protest. “You also have your life ahead of you, Michael. Find Lise, make it work with her.”

It was unspoken, but both understood that Sinclair would be staying. “Jeff, I....”

“But until then,” Sinclair continued, interrupting him. “I need you sharp, Michael. On the ball. You can't just go off like that. Alright?”

Garibaldi nodded. “It won't happen again.”

“Good.” He walked to the doors. “I'll let you know as soon as I have that channel for you.” Sinclair didn't wait for a response, just headed out of Garibaldi's quarters and started towards his own, but he had one stop to make on the way.

“Commander? Is everything alright?” Ivanova asked when he stepped into her quarters.

He hovered in the doorway, not letting the door shut. “Fine. I...I just wanted to say...good night, that was all.”

Ivanova studied him with a frown. His jacket was undone and he looked like a man on the edge, about to give him, resigned to the end that was inevitable. And it didn't sound like good night; it sounded like goodbye. But before she could respond, he had gone, like a shadow in the night. Ivanova sat back on the sofa, holding a cushion to her chest. She knew what was coming; in the event of an evacuation, some people would have to stay on the station until it was destroyed in order to make sure no one went on board and stole anything. It was the rule, though she always thought it was a stupid and pointless rule. But she had already made up her mind she was staying, no matter what Sinclair said; he had obviously decided otherwise. The question now was how to handle the situation.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

The smell of strong, freshly brewed coffee worked its way into Garibaldi's nostrils and he inhaled deeply, closing his eyes briefly. When he opened them, a full-to-the-brim mug of hot coffee sat in front of him, Ivanova opposite.

“You know it's against the regs to bribe a security officer,” he said.

“Really? I must have missed that one,” Ivanova replied blandly.

Garibaldi sipped his drinking, smiling appreciatively. “Just the way I like it. So, what can I do for you, Lieutenant Commander?”

“I need...a favour.”

“I'm all ears.”

“You'd look funny if you were,” she said with a smile, but it fell away as she lowered her voice. “You know as well as I do that in the case of an evacuation, some personnel will have to stay behind. I want you to promise me that the Commander won't make me leave.”

Garibaldi pulled a face. “I'm not sure I can do that.”

“He already asked you to throw me off the station, didn't he.”

It wasn't a question but the security chief answered anyway. “If I tell you, I'll be breaking a confidence. And if I don't tell you, you'll beat the crap out of me.” As he pretended to think, Ivanova had to hide a grin. “Hmm, trust of an old friend or my life?”

“Well, if the Commander ever finds out, you can say I threatened you,” Ivanova told him. “That should get you out of trouble.”

“And he'd believe it too.” Garibaldi held his hands up. “Alright. Yes, he did ask me to make sure you left, even though he knows you would insist on saying.” He held her gaze. “It was difficult for him to ask, though. He also ordered me to go as well.”

“Well that makes me feel a little better,” Ivanova admitted just before her link went off. “Ivanova here.”

_“Dr Franklin. The patient is awake and has some very important information he needs to share right away.”_

“On my way.” She looked at Garibaldi as she stood. “Thank you, Michael.”

“My pleasure...what for?”

She smiled and was about to answer when her link went off again. “Ivanova.”

_“Lieutenant Commander, we have a situation with the Hyperion. I think you'd better get up.”_

“On my way.”

“New guy?” Garibaldi asked.

“What? Oh, yeah. New technician. Corwin. I have to go.” Ivanova was moving across the room at a rapid pace as she raised her link to her mouth once more. “Ivanova to Franklin.”

_“Franklin here.”_

“I have to head up to C&C urgently, Doctor. You can brief me as I walk.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair had felt rested after a few hours of sleep and a hot shower, but then after the recent turn of events, his weariness had soon appeared. After almost declaring war on an Earth Alliance ship, and then another alien ship appearing, not to mention the alien, Varn, telling them that without a guardian the planet below would definitely blow and that the aliens that had arrived were actually bad aliens and not there to help, and now the involvement of Delenn and her friend somehow.... Sinclair shook his head and almost chuckled to himself. None of his other postings had ever been as interesting as Babylon 5, and he wondered now if that was a good or a bad thing.

“Something amusing?” Ivanova asked him from her position at his elbow.

“You couldn't write these things,” he replied.

She smiled at him in understanding. “I sometimes wonder what they make of our reports back home, you know.”

“I'm not sure I want to know.” Sinclair smiled back. “I'm sorry for putting you in that position before, possibly firing on our own ships, but....”

“No apology necessary,” she said, waving it aside. “To be honest, I would have done it anyway, with or without your permission. Some people don't respond well to subtlety.” Sinclair raised his eyebrows at her, his expression clearly saying 'you're one to talk'. Unfortunately, Ivanova understood all too well what he was implying. “Don't you have somewhere to be, Commander?”

“An uninhabited planet far, far away,” he replied with a grin as he left the command deck, activating his link to get the full report directly from Franklin to prepare him for his next port of call.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Dr Franklin tells me that you were with Varn when he regained consciousness. In the iso lab,” Sinclair said.

Neither Minbari looked concerned about the breach in protocol; Delenn looked as defiant as always, while Draal seemed to be trying to perfect an expression of amused innocence. “That is correct,” he replied.

“Mind telling me what you were doing there?” Sinclair asked.

“His spirit called out to me, and then he appeared.”

Sinclair looked surprised, and relieved, to know he wasn't the only one who had seen Varn. He knew he hadn't been hallucinating, but to have confirmation that someone else experienced the same was a huge relief to him.

“He said...another must be chosen,” Draal continued.

Delenn's head came round to stare at her old friend as he unknowingly echoed Kosh's words, and then she looked at Sinclair. He too understood now why Varn had appeared to him, and suddenly Delenn was overcome with a terrible sense of loss.

But Sinclair simply nodded and instead of carrying on the conversation, he said, “We have a little over eight hours before all hell breaks loose out there.” He inclined his head to the rest of the station, then nodded to them both before leaving.

Delenn knew what he had done and why he had told them how long they had left. He understood; someone needed to replace Varn, and the alien had chosen Sinclair and Draal out of everyone to fulfil that task. And by default, by inaction and reading between the lines, Sinclair had stepped aside for Draal, who Delenn knew would willingly accept the responsibility.

“Varn could not ask but I saw it in his eyes,” Draal said. “Of those who he revealed himself to, one must replace him.”

“It appears we have much to discuss, then.”

Both Minbari turned to see Londo stood in the doorway. “Ambassador, this is not...,” Delenn started.

“I saw him too. In the corridor. He asked me for help,” Londo interrupted. “So yes, this is my business now. So, shall we start?”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair watched the Hyperion leave with obvious relief and as he leant against the railing, Ivanova turned to him. “So how long do you think it will be before Earthforce sends out an expedition to explore Epsilon III?”

“With any luck never,” he replied dubiously.

“Hmm. Well, at least we survived. I wonder what will be next?”

Sinclair looked around the command deck, noting where everyone was before leaning forward. “Dinner,” he said quietly. “In a couple of hours? We're both off duty at the same time, and if we're not, than we damn well out to be after that crisis. And I don't know about you, but I could use a little quiet time.”

Ivanova nodded. “Alright. A couple of hours.”

“My quarters?”

“I'll be there.”

Sinclair smiled and nodded as he stood up properly. “I'll be in my office for another hour if you need me.”

Not ten minutes later, Ivanova appeared in his doorway. “Sir, we've finally got a secure line to Mars.”

Sinclair looked up from his paperwork, noticed the concern on her face, and turned his full attention to her. “But? Did you find Lise?”

“Yes, but before you tell Garibaldi, there's something you should know.”

“Go on.”

“It seems she's married and pregnant.”

Sinclair closed his eyes briefly. He knew how much Lise meant to Garibaldi, knew how much it had pained him to leave her on Mars and start afresh on Babylon 5. And he knew how he was going to react to this news. “Okay, thanks.”

“Do you want me to tell him?” Ivanova asked.

“No, I'll do it.” He looked at her. “He may want to talk afterwards.”

Ivanova smiled easily. “Dinner can wait if he does.”

“Thank you,” Sinclair replied sincerely. “I'll let you know if there's a change in plans.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova hesitated, consciously smoothing her clothes down and wishing for the hundredth time that she could have worn her uniform, but Sinclair had insisted on casual attire. She checked her appearance again, hoping is was casual enough for him, then scolded herself for being so indecisive. It was just an informal meal between two colleagues, nothing more. Ignoring the fact that he was her superior officer, ignoring the face she.... Ivanova stopped. She what? Had a crush on Sinclair? Had feelings for him? Loved him? Thought they were soul mates? She thought she had been sure how she felt, now things were blurred again, and she hated it when things weren't clear. Taking a deep breath, she hit the chime.

“Come in.”

It was a moment Ivanova would always remember clearly. Sinclair stood in the kitchen, the sleeves of his old flying jumper rolled up, his trousers having seen better days, his hair slightly untidy, and a relaxed smile on his face. Right. Casual. In contrast to Ivanova, who had picked out some nice clothes to wear; not the best she owned, but not the worst either.

“This is casual for me,” she blurted out, while simultaneously Sinclair said, “It's fine,” and meant it.

Any tension that was present or might have been at any point during the evening melted away and in the silence, it seemed a new understanding was born between them.

“You hungry?” he asked.

“Starving.”

Sinclair gestured to the table and chairs in the corner. “Make yourself at home. Drink?”

“No, thanks.”

He set water on the table anyway before putting a plate in front of her. “I'm not sure 'enjoy' would be the right word to use....”

Ivanova gave him a piercing stare. “If you're going to apologise all night, I'm going.”

He smiled somewhat guiltily. “So how are things on the planet now?”

“Quiet, thankfully,” she said as she started to eat. “Which reminds me....”

Sinclair had the odd feeling his life was about to end and braced himself.

“...The next time we have a crisis like this one – and there will be a next time – don't try to protect me. Sir.” Her stare was defiant, her expression proud. “Garibaldi told me what you asked him to do – under duress, I might add.” She softened as she sighed. “I know you were just trying to do what's best for me, but I don't need or want anyone to control my life.” Sinclair felt there was more to that sentence that went unsaid and wondered if he would ever find out what the rest of it was. “My place is on this station. This is where I want to be.”

_'With you.'_

Those unspoken words rang clear as a bell in the air between them. 

Slowly, Sinclair nodded. “Understood. It'll be difficult for me to...change the way I am, but I'll try. It's not just the role of commanding officer, it's who I am. But I will never try to control your life. That I can promise.”

They spent the rest of the meal talking about work and the current crisis they had just survived, but it was different than their usual meetings in the mess hall. There was an ease between them that seemed natural, any awkwardness which should have been present was strangely absent, and before they knew it, the evening was drawing to a close.

“Well, I've eaten worse,” Ivanova said teasingly with a smile as she stood to leave.

“But have you eaten better?” Sinclair replied.

Ivanova looked at him. “Damn right I have. In fact, next time, I'll cook.”

It was said casually but with meaning, and though Sinclair found himself thrilled at the words 'next time', he couldn't help but retort, “You can cook?!” in an incredulous tone.

“On that note, Commander, I shall bid you good night,” Ivanova said haughtily, turning and her heel and heading for the door. As it opened, though, she looked back over her shoulder, smiled and winked at him, then carried on her way. Sinclair stared after her while a warm grin spread across his face. And although he still didn't know what was between them, he found himself thinking there might be hope after all.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Garibaldi stood easily, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared out of the view port. The conversation with Lise had upset him more than he expected, though he couldn't say he was all that surprised to find her married and pregnant. He had, after all, not contacted her for almost two years; really, what did he expect? But it still hurt him and only served to re-affirm what he thought, that he really did love her.

“Good evening, Mr Garibaldi.”

He turned to see Delenn walking towards him and he inclined his head. “Ambassador.”

“I hope I am not disturbing you?”

“No, not at all. I was just...thinking.” Garibaldi turned back to the view. “It's peaceful here. Quiet.”

“You are troubled,” Delenn stated as she came to stand next to him.

He turned again, a slight smile on his face. “Does it show?”

“Somewhat, yes.” She smiled back.

It was strange to Garibaldi that he felt so at ease around this Minbari yet he had never really spent any time with her. But he had noticed Delenn had that power about her; he also noticed that when she said jump, everyone politely asked how high before doing exactly as she asked. Sometimes he wondered who was really in charge on the station.

“I have to ask...why the run around? When you knew someone had to take Varn's place, why not come to us and let us handle it?” he asked. It was a question which had been plaguing him because deep down, he knew the answer, but he needed someone to confirm it for him.

Delenn stared out into space, choosing her words carefully. “Because if we had, I know in my heart that Commander Sinclair would be the one down on Epsilon III now. He is looking for a purpose, but his destiny lies elsewhere.”

Garibaldi always knew that Delenn was hiding something; everyone on the station was hiding something, but her secret was bigger than most. It was his job to notice these things, though he couldn't even begin to fathom what that secret might be. Now, though, he had the vaguest of ideas, a semi-formed notion was was only remotely related to the truth.

“I know,” he replied, surprised by the shocked look on Delenn's face. Turning to face her fully, he explained what he meant. “Jeff's my best friend, we've been through a lot together, but sometimes...sometimes it feels like I've already lost him, you know? Like he's not really here.” Garibaldi smiled. “I can't explain it very well.” Then he shrugged. “It's just a feeling. Good night, Ambassador.”

Delenn sensed a great deal of pain and confusion in the security chief, but she knew better than to try and draw him out on the matter. Despite his easy going manner, Garibaldi was an intensely private man and she respected that about him. Staring out at the stars, Delenn thought about Draal now down on the surface, so near yet so far away. Kosh's words made sense to her the moment she discovered that both Sinclair and Draal had seen Varn, and though she was glad that her old friend had a purpose once more, she couldn't help but wonder how much of the situation Kosh had manipulated. It was clear he had not wanted Sinclair to chose or be chosen to take Varn's place, but why? She knew Sinclair was important, had been there are the terribly shocking discovery that ended the war, but she still didn't understand completely his role in the future. She had been tol dhe had a destiny; shortly after his arrival on the station, Kosh had visited Delenn and given her few, but precise instructions. Now she wanted answers.

“All is as it should be.”

The Vorlon's voice startled her and Delenn whirled, her eyes blazing. “Commander Sinclair should have been allowed the choice,” she said, surprising even herself. She had manipulated events enough herself to realise how hypocritical that statement made her, but she considered Sinclair a friend and every time she was forced to point him in the direction which was required of him, or to lie to him, she felt a piece of her die.

“No.”

“Why not?”

Kosh was silent for a time. “They are the light in the darkness, they are the guides to the future and the guardians of the past.”

“Who?”

“There are no choices.”

Delenn stared at him. “You are wrong. There is always choice, especially for a human. Though it may not seem possible to us, if they decide to do something, they will find a way.”

Kosh tilted his head. “A fork in the road will always lead to the same conclusion.”

“Are you saying that no matter what we choose, if we have a destiny, that destiny will assert itself one way or another?”

“Only for the shapers. The dreamers. The seekers.”

Delenn decided that constituted an actual straight answer to a question and so she nodded. “Thank you.”

“He must leave this place. And he must stay. They must be apart. They must be together. He is the One, but together, they are a whole.”

As Kosh glided away, Delenn could only stare. Part of an answer, then more confusion. But then, what more did she expect from a Vorlon?

TBC


	17. 115 Babylon Squared

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I looked around and couldn't find a name for the guy who holds the staff on the Grey Council. It isn't Hedronn, so I just made a name up for him.

_July 2258_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“She'll kill us.”

“She likes you.”

“That doesn't mean she won't kill me.”

“Come on, it worked so well on Laurel.”

“Well? You and I have different definitions of that word.”

“Why?”

“I did not go 'well' at all. I've still got the bruises!”

“Never thought I'd hear you back out of something like this.”

“Don't shake your head at me.”

“What else am I supposed to do? You used to be fun.”

“You used to be smart.”

“Ouch. Look, I can't do this without you.”

“That's because no one in their right mind would trust you.”

“Ouch again. No, it's because you have 'that voice'.”

“What voice?”

“The one that puts people to sleep.”

“....”

“Okay, that's not what I mean. I just meant....”

“That I put people to sleep. Thanks.”

“Well you do! When you talk a certain way...you know what I mean. Should I go stick my head in the fusion reactor now?”

“Probably be less painful in the end.”

“Does this mean you won't do it?”

“Let's see what kind of mood she's in when she gets here. And if it ever comes out, this was all your idea.”

“Yeah, yeah, I 'forced' you into it.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova should have known something was going on the moment she walked into the mess hall. Garibaldi just had that look about him, and the Commander was far too cheerful for so early in the day, though he did look concerned when she told him about being awoken earlier than normal and reason for it.

“Sector 14?” Sinclair repeated, frowning a little as he picked up his coffee.

Ivanova nodded, then groaned. “Damn, I forgot coffee.”

She had hardly risen from her seat before Sinclair put his hand on her arm. “Have mine,” he said, handing his cup over.

Garibaldi watched them closely, noticing how gentle Sinclair was with her, how their fingers touched around the mug, and the way their eyes never left each others. His old friend could say there was nothing between them until the sun exploded, but actions spoke louder than words and if they weren't careful, their actions would get them court marshalled. Carefully, he cleared his throat and looked meaningfully at Sinclair while Ivanova was distracted by caffeine.

The Commander began talking in that low, quiet way he had, and she should have definitely known something was going on at that point. But she was so tired, and his voice was so soothing, and she could feel herself gravitating towards him, while also being aware that he was moving closer to her. It was all so perfect, and Ivanova could imagine herself falling asleep every night to that voice. In fact, she hadn't realised she had actually nodded off until Garibaldi announced loudly that breakfast was over. she would have been inclined not to believe him, but the fact that Sinclair was playing along convinced her that she had somehow slept through.

Out in the corridor, however, when the confused technician in C&C told her it was nowhere near 0730h, Ivanova realised what had happened and after threatening Garibaldi rather loudly and publicly, she stalked back to her quarters to eat breakfast in peace, tank up with coffee as she had the feeling she was going to need it, and plot revenge against the both of them. Garibaldi was easy. Though she technically out-ranked him, Ivanova had always thought of him, and Franklin, more as equals and so getting her own back on the security officer would be easy. Sinclair, however, was an entirely different matter, though she had some...creative ideas on that score.

When it really was almost 0730h, Ivanova straightened her uniform and headed out of her quarters, only to stop in the doorway. Someone had left a flask outside, which she assumed, reasonably, was filled with coffee, and it was weighing a note down.

_Revenge is inevitable, but thought this might take the edge off it?_

She recognised Sinclair elegant scrawl and smiled in spite of herself. Maybe she could shift the blame more the Garibaldi and let the Commander make it up to her in a more personal way...in time.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Unfortunately, there was no time to contemplate revenge on either of them. When Ivanova arrived at C&C, Alpha 7 was almost at the point of the disturbance and there was definitely something more to it that the average run-of-the-mill problem. Which was normal for Babylon 5, only she dreaded to think what it was this time. They had had their share of major incidents for the year, or so she felt, though her gut told her the worst was yet to come. The open comm channel relayed Alpha 7's commentary as he came to a stop at the disturbance and began analysing it, and Ivanova stood with her hands clasped behind her back, listening intently. When he started screaming, she jumped at the blood-curdling sound, as did most of the personnel on the command deck.

“Are you alright?”

Ivanova jumped again and whirled to glare at Sinclair. “I've just aged ten years at least,” she retorted.

“I know what you mean.” His expression was grim; he seemed to take loss of life more personally than another other commanding officer she had known.

Holding his gaze, Ivanova said, “Actually, I meant the scare you just gave me and the little prank you and Garibaldi pulled this morning,” before turning back to her console.

Sinclair smiled slightly. “It was all his idea.”

Ivanova looked back at him in mock surprise. “No honour amongst thieves, is that it?”

“Would it help to say I was against the whole thing?”

“Not really.”

“And I suppose I can expect some kind of retribution at some point?”

“Of course. Although, the severity of the crime is different, so I think it's only fair you receive different punishments.”

Sinclair stared at her for a while, trying to work out whether that was an innocent comment or some sort of veiled innuendo, but Ivanova's face gave nothing away. His musing was interrupted by a technician calling for his attention to something, and he descended the steps into the 'pit' in the centre of the command deck. “See if you can find out what's happened to Alpha 7,” he said to Ivanova.

She nodded. “Will do.”

For a short while, all that could be heard on the command deck was the usual low hum of activity and Ivanova's voice as she repeatedly called for Alpha 7 to respond, but there was nothing. After a while, Sinclair came up from the 'pit' to join her in studying the console, his hands on his hips. He seemed unnaturally preoccupied over the situation, though Ivanova knew he took losing any of his crew hard. She told him that the fighter seemed to be returning to base, though the pilot wasn't responding, and Sinclair took it all in with a nod of his head. He asked a few questions, but she knew it was more out of habit than anything else, that his mind was elsewhere.

“What about those unusual tachyon emissions?” he said eventually.

It was Ivanova's turn to look concerned. “We had another burst about the same time we lost contact with Alpha 7, and then it seemed to stabilise.” She then spread her hands in a gesture that said they still had no clue as to what was causing it. 

“Notify Dr Franklin, tell him to have med lab standing by in case of injury,” Sinclair told her, giving her a curt nod before leaving the command deck.

Ivanova felt his departure was sudden, and she wondered if she had overstepped the mark. Leaving Corwin in charge briefly, she strode after Sinclair. “Commander!” she called to him as she saw him ahead of her in the corridor.

He turned and frowned. “Lieutenant Commander. Has something happened?”

“Actually, I was about to ask you that, sir.”

Sinclair smiled slightly. He had noticed she had a habit of calling him 'sir' when things were serious, or when she thought she was in the wrong. “What do you mean?”

“You seem...preoccupied. If I overstepped....”

He held his hand up before she had even started properly, let alone finish. “It was nothing you said or did, Ivanova.”

She nodded in understanding when he didn't continue; whatever was bothering him wasn't up for discussion at all. “Very well, Commander.” She hesitated. “If there is a development, where will you be?”

He gave her a very even look before replying, “The bathroom.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Delenn shifted slightly in her seat and waited for Babylon Control to give her permission to pass through the jump gate. The mysterious summons from the Grey Council were cause for some concern, and then there was the distracted air around Sinclair she had noticed in the last day or two. Though she could not be sure, Delenn thought perhaps Kosh was involved; the Vorlon certainly seemed to be taking a very active interest in the happenings aboard the station lately. But there had been no time for her to broach the subject with Sinclair; perhaps he might have opened up to her, or at least she could have nudged him the direction of opening up to someone. Instead, she had to leave Babylon 5 rather quickly, and there was an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach that she may not be coming back.

As an unfamiliar voice gave her permission to jump, Delenn found herself wishing it had been Sinclair or Ivanova instead. She found she would have given anything to hear their voices one last time, and that thought disturbed her more than anything else, for reasons she simply could not explain.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair and Ivanova stood together at the front of the command deck, her with her hands behind her back, him with his hands in his pockets. They had not spoken for a while now, and the silence was growing more oppressive by the minute. The rest of the crew noticed it but dared not say anything, and Ivanova was practising being as Russian as possible and ignoring the situation completely. Sinclair seemed strangely oblivious to the tension he was causing; he stared unseeing out of the dome at the stars, re-playing the conversation he'd had with Kosh two days ago.

_“There is a journey approaching. Time will have no meaning. She must stay. He must go.”_

_“Who?” Sinclair had asked, as confused as he always was when the Vorlon spoke to him._

_“You will understand when the time comes. And when the time comes again, you must be ready.”_

_Sinclair was no clearer to an answer, but he inclined his head in acknowledgement. “Alright.”_

_“You have a choice. A destiny. You have a hole in your mind, but it will not be there forever,” Kosh told him. “When that hole is filled, you will change. You will be who you used to be. Gone.”_

_“Are you saying that when I figure out what it is I can't remember...I'll die?” Sinclair asked, bewildered._

_Kosh's reply was a silent one._

_“How can I have a choice if I have a destiny?” he asked after a few moments._

_The Vorlon took his time replying. “I do not know.” Sinclair tried not to show his shock. “But very soon, you will have to make a choice. Both will lead you on the same path, but one will change history.”_

_The Commander tried to make sense of that one, and by the time he was ready to speak, Kosh had disappeared._

Sinclair had always felt that since the war, he wasn't in control of his life. Of course, that was part of being in the military, but he felt as thought everyone else knew more about him than he did, that his life had been mapped out for him, regardless of what he actually wanted. And now he had been told that was true, and even though it was something he had suspected for a long time, the truth made him angry. And then to be told that he would have to make a choice soon, one that would change history, was not something he took lightly.

“Alpha 7 coming into range.”

It was only when Corwin spoke that Sinclair realised the effect he was having on everyone around him. He had noticed Ivanova's concern but ignored it; he could not ignore the quiver in the young officer's voice, however, and immediately he pulled himself together. He look at Ivanova and nodded. Moments passed as she ordered Alpha 7 to dock and he didn't respond. Finally, they scanned the ship.

“Commander...he's dead,” Ivanova said in a shocked tone, and she was pleased to see a look of surprise cross Sinclair's face. Despite the prank he and Mr Garibaldi had played on her that morning, it was the first glimpse of his normal self she had seen for the last couple of days.

“Chief, I need you to get down to the docking bay and go over Alpha 7's ship. Take Dr Franklin as well,” Sinclair said into his link.

If Garibaldi found the order strange, he never let on. _“Will do.”_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Some time later, Sinclair and Ivanova found themselves in the docking bay with Garibaldi. He had already been up to Sinclair's office to explain the cause of death of the pilot, and then been called back to the ship, leaving the other two officers to discuss the situation. Ivanova had wanted to bring up Sinclair's distracted state again, but there had been no time. Garibaldi had requested their presence down in the docking bay, and Ivanova had set off alone, Sinclair saying he would catch up.

“This is the buckle off the pilot's safety harness,” Garibaldi told them, showing them a small piece of metal.

Ivanova was looking at it with a frown, but Sinclair was looking at her. He could feel a shift in the universe, like something momentous was about to happen, something he had no control over, and he didn't like the direction they were heading in, although he was powerless to stop it. With an effort, he turned his attention to the buckle.

“Looks like he managed to scratch something into it,” he said. “B...4.” A jolt of deja vu shot through Sinclair, coupled with a strange tug of recognition that made his knees almost cave in.

Neither of the other two officers noticed, however, as Ivanova was too busy being incredulous, and Garibaldi along with her. “B4? As in Babylon 4?”

“B4 vanished over 4 years ago.” The security chief shrugged. “I don't get it.”

Sinclair sighed heavily, at least one thing falling into place in his mind. “Not only was sector 14 where Babylon 4 was stationed, but those tachyon emissions are coming from the exact spot it disappeared from.”

“So what happened before is happening again?” Ivanova asked.

Sinclair made to answer but never got the chance. His link went off, alerting him to a distress signal...from Babylon 4. He looked first to Ivanova, then to Garibaldi. “We're on our way.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Babylon 4 was real, or so it seemed, and now they were set to find it. As Garibaldi sat in the shuttle going over the instruments and making sure his harness was secure, he couldn't help but think it was the strangest thing he had ever come across. A space station didn't just vanish and then reappear...did it? He was about to say something to Sinclair, turning as he opened his mouth, then caught the look on his friend's face and his words died on his lips. Sinclair had seemed more withdrawn than normal lately, a deep darkness colouring his normally easy going attitude. He certainly wasn't the man Garibaldi had met years ago, but who he was becoming, the security chief didn't think either of them knew.

“Babylon Control, if you don't hear from us in 8 hours, notify Earth Central but do not send any more ships,” Sinclair ordered over the intercom.

Ivanova's voice sounded in the shuttle. _“Confirmed, Commander. Good luck.”_

To Garibaldi, her tone sounded curt, perhaps even a little cold, and from the other side of the shuttle, he heard Sinclair sigh in a weary way. The security chief gave it until the count of twenty before speaking. “So.”

“So.”

“You want to tell me what's going on or should I take an educated guess?”

Sinclair glanced at him. “I'd rather you didn't.”

“Why? Because I might be right?” Garibaldi asked.

“No, because I don't want you to blow the shuttle up from thinking too much.”

“That was a low blow, Commander.”

“Perhaps. Doesn't make it any less true, though, Chief.”

Garibaldi smiled. “Ivanova seemed a little...unhappy.”

“If you've got something to say, Michael, say it,” Sinclair told him, looking at him.

“Alright. How come I got picked for this trip? I mean, don't get me wrong, it's great to get off the station, but hunting ghosts? Not my thing. Besides, Ivanova seemed more interested in this than me.” He had a sudden, sobering thought. “She hasn't booby trapped the shuttle...has she?!”

Sinclair laughed a little. “Not that I know of.” He sighed again. “I took Ivanova on the last 'trip', as you put it, to Epsilon III. I figured this time it was your turn.”

“There has to be more to it than that,” Garibaldi said.

“Only because you have a suspicious mind.”

“Part of the job. So you're telling me that's it? Ivanova went last time, so this time it's my turn?”

“That's it.”

“Huh. How long until we reach Sector 14?”

“Two hours, forty five minutes.”

Garibaldi sighed dejectedly. “This is going to be a long flight.”

Privately, Sinclair agreed with him, but he was already replaying the conversation he'd had with Ivanova before leaving in his head. He had told her more than he had told his old friend, but still not the truth, and the worst part was she knew she was being lied to and hadn't taken it all that well.

_After they had determined that the signal coming from Babylon 4 was legitimate and Sinclair had announced his intention to find the station, Ivanova had followed him and Garibaldi off the command deck. Sinclair had said 'we're going to find Babylon 4'; she wasn't entirely sure what 'we' that entailed, but she was almost certain that Garibaldi would be left behind to mind the station, as he seemed to have little interest in such a long haul trip to find something he didn't believe in. Plus Ivanova thought it would give her and Sinclair some time to themselves to discuss whatever came to mind. It seemed that Sinclair had other ideas. When they reached his office, he turned immediately and looked at Garibaldi._

_“Michael, I want you to prepare a shuttle for us, an escort wing and a fighter escort. Have the pilots stay in the docking area so I can brief them. I'll meet you there.”_

_Garibaldi raised his eyebrows, but recognised the order when he heard one, nodded and left. Ivanova stared at Sinclair, unable to hide her disappointment, and waited for him to speak. It soon became clear he wasn't about to. “Sir?”_

_Sinclair forced himself to look at her. “Something, Lieutenant Commander?”_

_“I just thought.... If I may ask, why is Mr Garibaldi going along?”_

_“You went to Epsilon III with me.”_

_“I wasn't aware there was a rota,” she said, somewhat snappishly. “And if that is the case, then perhaps Mr Garibaldi and I should go, and you should stay here.”_

_“No.” His own reply was sharper than he had intended, and with a dejected sigh, he leant against the edge of the desk. He wanted so much to take her in his arms and tell her everything he knew; he wanted to share everything with her but his intuition told him that to do so would only put her in danger, and that was the last thing he wanted. “Susan, you must believe me, I would like nothing more than to take you with me this time, but I can't, and I can't explain why. This is something that has to happen this way; that's all I can say because that's all I know.” He put his hands in his pockets. “I need you to look after the station while I'm gone.”_

_Ivanova had stared at him long and hard, not really seeing him but trying to work out exactly why it bothered her so much that she was being left behind, or even lied to. She couldn't understand why she felt so left out...almost betrayed, but she did. So she did something she had rarely done before, or would do again; she saluted to him. “Yes, Commander,” she said crisply, and left._

Sinclair couldn't understand her reaction either, but his own he understood all too well. Kosh had told him to choose Garibaldi instead of Ivanova, and deep in his heart, Sinclair knew he was putting himself and his old friend at risk. He was choosing Garibaldi to spare Ivanova, and he wasn't proud of having to make that choice, because despite being forced into that position, he knew his decision would have been the same had he been allowed to choose.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

When Delenn had received the summons from the Grey Council, she had no idea why she had been called, and the news she had just received was more of a shock than she could ever have guessed. She had been chosen to lead the Grey Council. It was the greatest honour amongst her people, and something her life had been leading up to ever since she became a novitiate, yet she had not seen the possibility. Her work on Babylon 5, both her known and secret duties, had become an inseparable part of her, and she found she did not want to leave the station. If the truth was told, she felt she _could_ not leave; in her distant mind's eye, she could see events which were about to unfold and she knew that those she had come to care about would need all the help they could get, including hers. And then there was the prophecy.... Ever since she had heard the words, Delenn had been consumed by destiny, her destiny, and leading the Grey Council had not been it. 

She thought of Lennier, of Sinclair and Ivanova, Garibaldi and Franklin, and even Londo and G'Kar, and could not help the feeling that her time with them was not over. A sudden lurch in her midsection made Delenn reach for the bulkhead. It was a twisted feeling of deja vu, and for a terrible moment, she felt as though they had lost Sinclair.

Back on Babylon 5, Ivanova suffered the same feeling. On a ship out in space, the captain doubled over slightly, not understanding what he was feeling.

As Delenn straightened up, she had made her decision, though likely it would mean eventual expulsion from the Grey Council. But now she believed in something greater than the ruling body of her own people. She believed in the unshakable truth she had just felt: the truth of destiny.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair could sense Garibaldi scepticism, despite being stood on Babylon 4 talking to its commanding officer, Major Krantz, and in any other situation, he would have laughed. But the sense of unease he had felt since leaving Babylon 5 was growing by the minute and he had a horrible sense of deja vu that he wouldn't be returning from Babylon 4.

Then suddenly a flash and a lurch, and he was...somewhere else. Back on Babylon 5, in the middle of fire fight, Garibaldi at his side. It made no sense...how did he get here? Sinclair looked around, dazed, aware they had reached the end of their luck, aware Garibaldi was trying to tell him something, and then he was being swept away by a sea of people. Then, without warning, he was in his quarters, staring into the eyes of the woman he loved. She smiled at him as she reached for his face, the backs of her fingers caressing his cheek gently, with infinite care. He smiled back, totally relaxed for the first time in a long time, and let her work her way up to his head, massaging his scalp and playing with his hair. Then she stood, tall and graceful, and walked behind him, her hands dropping to his bare shoulders, kneading the knotted muscles there.

“I've seen smaller asteroids,” she quipped.

He rolled his eyes, although she couldn't see him. “You try running this station.”

“My solution is simple; threaten everyone at least once a day and they would soon learn their places.”

He laughed loudly, the sound reverberating in his torso. Suddenly she was straddling his thighs, her knees holding his hips tightly, her hands on his chest. His breath caught in his throat as he looked her, hair falling down one side of her face. Hesitantly, with a shaking hand, he reached for her.

“You are beautiful, Susan....”

Another flash, another lurch, and Sinclair was back on Babylon 4, Ivanova's name dying on his lips. “Wha-what was that?!” he demanded to know. He couldn't, dared not, look at Garibaldi; he didn't want to know if his old friend had heard those final words or not.

Major Krantz looked weary to the core. “It's different for everyone. A glimpse of the future, a look at the past. It's always like that here. It started not long after the station went operational.”

Suddenly Sinclair felt a surge of compassion for the man in front of him, and for all those trapped on the station. Squaring his shoulders, he turned to Garibaldi, whose expression was strangely closed, and Sinclair wondered what he had seen. “We need to get these people off Babylon 4, Michael.”

He nodded his agreement. “I'll see it.”

“Before you do, there's something else you should see,” Major Krantz said, gesturing for them to follow him.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

The amount of time they had not been in contact with the shuttle escort had only been short, but felt to Ivanova like a lifetime. And now communications had been restored, the first group was being evacuated...and that was all Ivanova knew. Sinclair had been unusually silent, and was still on board Babylon 4. That lurch she felt pertained to him, she was certain of it. But how or why was still a mystery. Trying to unsuccessfully mask her worry, Ivanova stared out of the observation dome, almost willing Sinclair to come home. She watched the second shuttle wing launch, watched it long after the ships had disappeared from view, then turned to Corwin.

“I have some things to attend to. I won't be long. Let me know if there are any changes.”

Without waiting for a reply, Ivanova strode off the command deck and let her feet carry her through the station. Somehow, she wasn't surprised when she arrived at Ambassador Delenn's quarters. She was surprised, however, when Lennier answered.

“Lieutenant Commander Ivanova, is there a problem?”

As always, he looked wide-eyed and innocent, and Ivanova privately thought there was something very sweet about the young Minbari, not that she would ever embarrass either of them by admitting such a thing. “Mr Lennier,” she said by way of greeting. “I was looking for Ambassador Delenn.”

Lennier almost frowned. “Ambassador Delenn is not currently on board the station,” he replied in a tone which suggested Ivanova ought to know better.

As soon as he spoke, she vaguely remembered seeing a Minbari flyer on the departure list for earlier that day and mentally she kicked herself. Outwardly, though, she just smiled and nodded. “It isn't important. Good day, Mr Lennier.”

Once again letting her feet carry her, Ivanova was this time surprised by her destination. Looking over her shoulder furtively, she quickly slipped through the door and stood in the dark in his quarters. In Sinclair's private space. She knew she shouldn't be there, knew if he found out he would probably have an apoplexy, but she needed to be near him. She suddenly wanted to tell him about her father, to talk about her mother and her brother. She wanted him to promise her he would never leave her because her gut was telling her that was exactly what was going to happen. She needed him like she had never needed anyone before in her life, and it scared her. And although she knew she should return to her duties, Ivanova sat in the armchair, rested her elbows on her knees, put her head in her hands and started to let the tears fall for reasons she couldn't fully understand.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

As soon as Sinclair stepped into the room, he was struck by a sense of deja vu he couldn't have explained no matter how hard he tried. The creature sat at the table was like nothing he had ever seen before, and yet, Zathras was familiar, as was his story about needing Babylon 4 for a base of operations in a great war. And if also seemed as if the alien knew Sinclair. He sneaked a look at Garibaldi, whose eyebrows were raised so high with disbelief it was almost comical. It was obvious the security chief didn't buy any of what Zathras was saying, but Sinclair did. He couldn't have explained why, but there was something about the whole situation that seemed to ring true. Then there was some sort of commotion outside, which seemed to be a regular occurrence judging by Krantz's reaction, and they all filed out of the room in disorder.

A spectral being in a blue spacesuit was wavering in and out of space or time, Sinclair wasn't sure. All he knew was that whoever was inside the suit was trapped and in pain, and he had to help, despite Garibaldi's warning to stay away. He moved slowly, cautiously, but not afraid, reaching out for the outstretched hand with his own fingers. The shock he experienced when they touched was unlike anything he had ever sensed before and it knocked him twenty feet back. The man in the spacesuit, however, didn't move at all. As Sinclair lay there, winded and bruised, he saw Garibaldi rushing towards him and braced himself for the inevitable 'I told you so' speech. But he wasn't concerned with that; he was more bothered by what he had just _seen_.

“Time to get these people off here, Michael,” Sinclair growled, cutting off any reprimand Garibaldi might have made.

The security chief took a hard look at his friend and nodded. “Yes, sir, I'll see to it right away.”

With an aching body, a colossal headache and an infinite sense of sadness, Sinclair followed Krantz and Zathras back to the holding cell.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Delenn changed out of her robes slowly. She knew she was making the right decision, and yet she was deeply saddened by the thought of having to leave the ship, leave the Grey Council. It felt almost like she was betraying Dukhat, although he was have called such a notion nonsense. It wasn't as thought she couldn't explain her reasons fully to the Grey Council either; she chose not to simply because they did not want to see, did not want to believe in the prophecy, and that also hurt her. When had her own people become so blind? When had they grown so...arrogant? Was it contact with the other races that had made them so, or had they always been that way and she had never noticed until contact with other races?

“Delenn.”

She turned at the voice of her friend, Darain, surprised to see him. “Yes?”

He smiled kindly at her, and she wondered if she had been wrong in her assessment of her people, or some of them at least. “I wanted to see you before you go, though I am sure I will still be present upon your return.”

Delenn returned the smile, grateful for the lie but unable to accept it. “We both know I will never again see the inner sanctum.”

Darain's expression was mysterious, and she was struck with the certainty that he did believe in the prophecy...all of it. “In any case, I thought you could make use of this. It won't be missed, for a time, and when it is missed....” He just shrugged.

Delenn took the cloth and carefully uncovered what he had handed her. A Triluminary. Mystery devices handed down from Valen, there was only three ever in existence, and here she was, taking one away with her. But a fresh wave of sadness washed over her as she stared at the triangle, thinking back more than ten years previously. _'What did we do to you, my friend?'_ she thought. _'What are we still doing to you?'_

“Delenn? Are you alright?” Darain asked with concern.

She nodded. “Yes. Thank you.” She lifted her chin. “It is time I left.”

“Valen go with you.”

“And with you.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

There was a heavy silence in the shuttle as both Garibaldi and Sinclair worked mechanically on their tasks, putting distance as quickly as possible between themselves and the rapidly disappearing Babylon 4. Both men were preoccupied with what they had experienced on board the station, though Garibaldi seemed to be faring worse than Sinclair, something which did not go unnoticed by the Commander.

“I wonder if we'll ever see her again,” he mused quietly. Garibaldi's head whipped round and he pinned his friend with a sharp stare, which melted the instant he realised he had interpreted his words wrong, and he turned back to his console. “What is it, Mike?”

Garibaldi was silent for a long time before speaking. “When we on Babylon 4, there were...flashes. Krantz said sometime it was the future. I saw....” He swallowed, and then told his friend everything, from the fight he had with Lise when he left Mars to the guilt he felt, and the sadness he couldn't shake after finding out she was not only married, but pregnant as well. As Sinclair listened, part of his brain realised that Garibaldi hadn't heard him saying Ivanova's name out loud and he counted himself as lucky. The security chief was certain there was more going on than there actually was and he didn't need any more fuel for his speculative fire.

“Why don't you contact her again, Michael?” Sinclair suggested once he had finished talking. “Just talk to her, try to be friends. At least keep a connection with her.” He smiled. “She may come to appreciate being able to lean on you...she may even realise she's made a mistake.”

“But did she? Because I'm not sure I'm ready to give up Babylon 5 for anybody.”

“Why not?”

Garibaldi took a deep breath. “Because I feel like I'm making a difference. Not just to the station, but to myself. Does that make any kind of sense?”

“Yeah,” Sinclair replied, nodding before falling silent. There wasn't much more he could say. He knew Garibaldi was scared, but also knew better than to call him on it. In the quiet that followed, his thoughts turned back to what Zathras had said about him having a destiny, and to what he had seen in the flashes: a fire fight and the destruction of Babylon 5; himself and Ivanova together; himself....

As if reading his mind, Garibaldi said, “What did you see, Jeff?”

Sinclair considered his reply carefully. “The future.”

Garibaldi looked at him, noting how he was pensive, almost disturbed. “Hasn't happened yet.”

“No, it hasn't.” Sinclair turned, his gaze locking with his friend. “And the past can't be changed.”

“No, it can't.”

“Dwelling on either one won't make a difference to here and now.”

Garibaldi mock scowled. “I hate it when you go all Vorlon on me. Or maybe it's Minbari.” He turned back to his console. “Either way, make me up when we reach the barn.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Somehow Sinclair wasn't surprised to see Ivanova waiting for him in the docking area when her arrived back. There was a tightness about her face, a stiffness in her posture, and he wondered what had happened in his absence.

“Commander,” she greeted him. “I take it you found Babylon 4?”

Sinclair nodded, a heaviness settling over him. “Everything alright here?”

Ivanova looked around, then motioned with her head for him to follow her. He was expecting bad news, he was prepared for a frank discussion about something; what he didn't expect and was completely unprepared for was Ivanova throwing her arms around his neck the second they were along. He hesitated only briefly before putting his arms around her and holding her tightly as he laid his head on her shoulder.

“I thought I'd lost you,” she murmured, her voice thick with unshed tears.

Sinclair wanted to comfort her, offer some words of support, but he couldn't. Because in his head, he knew it was true. Instead he just shut his eyes and held her more closely.

When they finally parted, Ivanova straightened her jacket and then started to apologise, but Sinclair cut her off. “It's fine.”

She nodded, then picked up the earlier thread of conversation. “So...Babylon 4?”

“It did reappeared. We managed to get everyone off, but....” He shook his head. “It was strange, to say the least.” As they walked, he explained everything that had happened, omitting the glimpses of the future he had experienced.

“Great, and I missed it,” Ivanova groused. “Next time she reappeared, I'm going and Garibaldi is staying.” She gave a little laugh.

Luckily, her back was to Sinclair and so she didn't see the pained expression that crossed his face. He had glimpsed something he was certain he wasn't meant to see, not a future that could be, but of one that _had to be_. And it made everything leading up to that point seem so futile.

“A Flying Dutchman,” he said, forcing a light tone.

“Yes. I didn't get that reference,” Ivanova told him. When Sinclair had explained the story, she asked, “Did the Dutchman ever make it home?”

“No.”

There was an infinite sadness in his voice that made her act on impulse and she took his hand briefly. “B4 is not the Flying Dutchman. Maybe its story will have a different, happier ending.”

Sinclair wanted to make some comment about Ivanova and optimism, but couldn't find the right words. Instead he just smiled in reply. It didn't reach his eyes, a fact that didn't go unnoticed.

TBC


	18. 116 Legacies

_July 2258_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova paused in the doorway to Sinclair's office, giving her eyes time to adjust to the dimness inside. She had been told the Commander was in there and had wanted to hand over several important reports before heading off duty, but it seemed her information was wrong. For a few moments, she lingered as she often did lately, savouring the time spent in the space that was uniquely his. They hadn't spoken much about the Babylon 4 incident or her reaction to his return, but she could tell he was changed. She knew he had discovered something on the trip that he didn't want to know and certainly didn't want to share. Not yet, at least. In her more optimistic moments, Ivanova still hoped Sinclair would confide in her completely one day. She hoped....

Shaking her head slightly, she was about to leave when the smallest of movements caught her eye and she strained to see clearer in the darkness. And there, on the sofa, she could just make out the shape of a man, his head leant back. She couldn't tell if his eyes were open or closed, but he seemed ignorant of her presence either way. Ivanova hesitated for longer than it took the thought to form properly before walking into the room and placing the paper carefully on the desk but none too quietly on the desk. But she didn't leave. She stood with her back to Sinclair, waiting for him to acknowledge her, and when he didn't, she wondered if she really was intruding. But even though he didn't speak, there was...a feeling. A strong sense of him wanting her company, and so she walked over to the sofa, coming to a stop behind it, and rested her hands on the back, either side of his head.

Closing his eyes again, Sinclair counted to ten and then turned his head to one side, resting his cheek on the back of her hand. He breathed in the unique scent of Ivanova's skin and let her strength calm him. He fought back a shiver as her free hand ghosted across his temple and through his hair. “Are you a dream?” he asked, his voice pained.

Ivanova knew there was more to that question than simple words, and it pained her. “No, I'm real. I'm here.”

Sinclair moved his head back to centre again, reached up to take both her hands in his and brought them to rest on his shoulders. “I'm glad.”

“Why are you sat here in the dark?”

“I just...needed some time to think. Alone. Somewhere that wasn't my quarters.”

“You could have used mine.” The words escaped before she realised what she was saying and inwardly, Ivanova winced.

But all Sinclair said was, “Thank you.”

Somehow he seemed lost, drifting, and drawing on her Russian courage, Ivanova leant forward and rested her chin on his head. “Tell me what's bothering you...Jeff.”

At the sound of his name coming from her lips, Sinclair emitted a long, soft sigh, the tension ebbing from him. “I received a communication from Earth Central. A Minbari...delegation is heading this way. We're to extend them every courtesy possible.” There was more, Ivanova could tell, and so she waited silently for him to continue. “One of their leaders has died. From the Warrior caste. They want to...display his body from here to Minbar so all the other Minbari can accord him their respect.” Sinclair shook as he took a deep breath and let it out. “Bremner....he led the Minbari in many battles during the war...including the Battle of the Line.” Ivanova closed her eyes, understanding coming to her in an instant. “Of all the difficult situations I have faced, Susan, I think this has to be the toughest.”

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked after a while.

He shook his head. “Just knowing you're here is enough. And don't go easy on me because of this. Everything continues as normal.”

She smiled before placing a gentle kiss on his hair, disengaging her hands and standing upright. “I would never have considered otherwise, Commander.” She reached the doorway before turning to face him again, slightly surprised she could feel the intensity of his gaze from across the room. “When is the ship due?”

“Tomorrow.” Sinclair knew what was going through her mind. “You're not on duty.”

“I can be. Just let me know when the Minbari arrive and I'll be there.”

“It would be good for you,” Sinclair conceded. “To continue your diplomatic education.”

Ivanova smiled. “I knew you would see things my way. Good night, Commander. And try to get some rest.”

“Futile exercise,” he murmured, as if speaking from experience.

Several replies hovered on Ivanova's lips, each as inappropriate at the other, and swallowing heavily, she just nodded instead, not trusting herself to speak as she made a hasty retreat from his office. This visit was going to be nothing but trouble, she could feel it.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Despite her advice to Sinclair the night before, Ivanova hadn't managed much in the way of sleep herself. She could sense his discomfort with the task he would have to complete for the Minbari, and in a way it worried her to see him so worked up. She knew he suffered from stress and a short temper like everyone else at times, but this was entirely different and extremely personal, and she was torn as to how she could help him, if she could at all. And how quickly her feelings for him were developing also worried her; in seven months, he had gone from an unknown quantity in the form of a new commanding officer to someone dear to her heart, so close that he was second only to people who were no longer alive.

As she sat at her usual place in the Zocalo, the bar man came up to her, his eyebrow raised. “Rough night?” Ivanova just nodded to him, rubbing her neck a little. “Hold on.” He came back a few moments later and put a cup in front of her.

As Ivanova inhaled the aroma swirling up, her eyes widened. “What is in this?” she asked somewhat incredulously.

“Coffee.”

“What strength?!”

“Locked in negotiations with the Narn and Centauri for more than any reasonable person could stand.” He winked at her. “On the house. Just try not to scare away any of the customers, okay?”

Ivanova looked at him. “What does that mean?”

“No offence, Lieutenant Commander....”

“Too late for that.”

“But you know exactly what that means. I'm sure once you've drunk that, though, you'll start to feel more human.”

Despite herself, Ivanova smiled as he walked away, not just from the somewhat random interaction, but from the fact she was drinking Sinclair's special strength of coffee. The first mouthful didn't do much beside quench her thirst, but she could feel the second mouthful start to work its magic and relaxed a little.

Until the doors to the transport tube opposite from her seat opened and Talia walked out. Ivanova sighed, but she was too preoccupied to make a big deal out of seeing the telepath. Talia made some show of looking around, then slid onto a seat across from Ivanova, who had a flash of inspiration – or a moment of weakness, she wasn't sure – and nodded. Talia hesitated only briefly before nodding back. Ivanova was certain Sinclair would have been proud of her.

She was just getting to the bottom of the cup when there was a commotion around her, and she saw a young girl running down past the cafe, cries of 'thief' following her. Ivanova was out of her seat in an instant, idly noting Talia didn't move at all. Then the girl suddenly collapsed and suddenly the blonde woman was beside her.

“Get her to Dr Franklin immediately.”

Ivanova looked surprised. “You know this girl?”

Talia shook her head. “She's just taken a mind burst, though.” She looked down. “She's a telepath.”

Ivanova just froze. A telepath...possibly outside of Psi Corps control. Was it possible she could put some ghosts to rest through this girl? She wasn't sure, but she knew she would try.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Well, they're still big and ugly,” Garibaldi said as the Minbari ship appeared on the screen.

Sinclair just grunted an affirmative, haunted by memories of the Battle of the Line, something he hadn't experienced during the day time for a number of years. Then Corwin announced that the ship was coming in armed for a fight and Sinclair experienced something he never thought he would; fear. He didn't not want to die on the station, not in that moment or in that way, and when he contacted the Minbari, he wasn't his usual polite, diplomatic self.

“No offence, Jeff, but are you trying to start another war?” Garibaldi murmured to him in concern when Alit Neroon cut communications abruptly.

Before Sinclair could reply, Delenn just breezed onto the command deck, ignoring all of the usual protocols about civilians being there, and ordered the ship to be scanned, to be sure that the guns were not activated. Corwin complied and gave an answer before the Commander had time to process the ambassador's presence, and he felt his shoulders bunching and the skin around his temples tightening as his anger began to turn into unfettered rage. Garibaldi sensed the change in his friend and moved closer, his arms hanging loosely by his side, ready to restrain him if necessary.

Delenn, seemingly oblivious to what was going on, explained why the gun ports were open, but then offered to have the captain comply with the orders to close them while alongside the station. “Is that satisfactory?”

Sinclair's reply was cold, his expression hard. “Barely.”

Delenn inclined her head. “I must prepare to meet the cortege. You will both join me there.”

It was an order, like when she said about scanning the ships, and Sinclair began to wonder how he had never realised she was more than simply an ambassador before. She carried the bearing and the authority of someone in charge; of a member of the Minbari Grey Council. But now was not the time to bring up something like that, if there would ever be a time. Not trusting himself to speak, he simply nodded back.

“You okay, Commander?” Garibaldi asked quietly, concern in his eyes.

“Have Lieutenant Commander Ivanova report to my office now,” Sinclair said, walking away.

The security whistled low. “That is one unhappy man,” he muttered to no on in particular.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova knew she was being somewhat stubborn over the young telepath, but she had to keep her on the station long enough to help her, though she wasn't about to explain herself to Franklin or Talia. She was somewhat amused when Franklin threw them both out of med lab, though she suspected the blonde telepath was less than happy. The girl, whose name they didn't even know yet, was young and impressionable, and didn't need to be spoon fed the lies of the Psi Corps, though whether there were any other choices for her, Ivanova didn't know. Yet. It was a challenge, and she loved those.

_“Garibaldi to Ivanova.”_

“Ivanova here,” she said, stopping in the middle of the corridor.

_“Commander wants to see you in his office right away.”_

There was a tightness in Garibaldi's voice and she wondered what had happened already. “The Minbari delegation hasn't arrived already, has it?” she asked, worried.

 _“Not exactly.”_ The security chief paused. _“I'll meet you outside the command deck, five minutes.”_

“On my way.”

Four minutes later, Ivanova was stood in front of a pacing Garibaldi. His arms were folded across his chest and he looked extremely concerned. But he saw something on her face which made him stop. “You okay?”

She nodded. “What's going on, Garibaldi?”

He looked around and then leant closer to her. “Commander sort of lost it when the Minbari arrived.”

Ivanova's eyes widened. “What?!”

He motioned for her to keep her voice down, then explained what happened. “I'm worried about him. I've never seen him like this.”

“And he wants to see me?”

Garibaldi nodded and they shared a look. He thought she might be able to help; they both thought Sinclair thought the same. Instinctively, Ivanova knew she would have to try new tactics to help Sinclair through this crisis, and her silent reply to Garibaldi was she would try. Smiling, he gave her shoulder a squeeze as he passed her. Ivanova took a deep breath, tugged her uniform straight, and headed to Sinclair's office.

He was sat at his desk, his head bowed in supposed concentration on some paperwork, but she knew better. Ignoring all rules and protocols, she walked straight into the room and sat down on the sofa, staring ahead and ignoring him as well, until she heard him set the pen down and walk over to her. He sat opposite her, not next to her, which she was grateful for.

“Something wrong?” Sinclair asked.

“That's what I was going to say to you and it wasn't going to be a question,” Ivanova replied boldly.

For a moment, she thought Sinclair would explode at her, but he kept himself under control. “You spoke to Garibaldi.”

“He told me you wanted to see me.”

“Anything else?”

Ivanova held his gaze defiantly. “You tell me.”

“I lost my temper. It happens.”

“No, it doesn't.”

Sinclair sighed. “No, it doesn't. Not like that, at least. I know.”

Ivanova waited for a moment, collecting her thoughts. “You know my mother was a telepath, and you know she took her own life. It's in my file, it's not secret...now. But when she was my age, it still was. She kept it to herself, hid it from everyone, because she didn't want the Psi Corps to take her away. Even if she hadn't had me or my brother, she didn't agree with the way they did things. On the rare occasions she did talk about them, she said she felt that the telepaths in the Corps were as much a victim as those in prison or on the drugs. I never realised how important that was until she died.” She paused. “I think sometimes that if I could help a telepath to make a life for themselves, away from Psi Corps, and not to have to hide who they are, it would help me move on, you know?” A strange statement, but not one Sinclair had time to process as Ivanova locked eyes with him and continued, changed tact swiftly and without warning. “I also lost my brother to the war with the Minbari. I'm not going to say I know how you feel because I don't, but you're not alone.”

Sinclair was surprised by her honesty, but more surprised how calm she made him feel. “It's just the fact that it's Bramner who died, Bramner who the Minbari want to honour in this way. And the way they're doing it as well...I just don't agree with it, but that's my personal preference.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Bramner practically led the attack on the Line, he commanded one of the ships that splashed my team. To get over something like that...it isn't easy. Though I try to tell myself the war is over, some days I'm not so sure.”

Ivanova frowned. “Commander?”

He explained about Delenn's presence, the way she commanded Corwin without actually ordering him about. “Sometimes I wonder who is really in charge of this station,” he mused. Ivanova pursed her lips together hard. “What is it?”

She hesitated. “I heard a rumour before being stationed here.... A lot of people were surprised when you were given the command.”

“None more so than me, believe me,” Sinclair replied.

“I heard...well, the rumour was that you were hand-picked by the Minbari,” Ivanova told him. “And there were a lot of unhappy people about it.”

Sinclair tried not to show his surprise, but that was the first he had heard about it. He knew he had been on the list as a possible candidate for the command of Babylon 5, but so far down that he didn't think it would happen. “I can imagine.”

“Whether it's true or not doesn't matter,” she told him. “Ultimately _you_ are in charge of this station. Not Delenn, not the senate...not even Earth Central. You. If you tell the Minbari captain to close the gun ports, that's what he does or he doesn't come on board the station. And while he's here, he plays by your rules.”

Sinclair actually laughed then. “Is that your version of diplomacy, Lieutenant Commander?”

“Yes, sir, absolutely.” Ivanova's face softened. “Extending the Minbari every courtesy is one thing, but don't let them think they're in charge. Sir.”

“I'll keep that in mind. Thank you.”

“Now, you wanted to see me?” Ivanova asked.

He laughed again. “I did. I wondered why you weren't on the command deck when the ship came through the gate.”

“I was delayed,” she said apologetically.

“Anything important?”

“I'll let you know.”

Sinclair nodded. “We should change. We're supposed to meet the delegation as they arrive on the station.” His lips quirked upwards. “Delenn's orders.”

“Of course.”

“And I would like you and Garibaldi to show the Minbari where they can put Bramner's body.”

Ivanova raised her eyebrows a little but didn't comment. “Yes, sir.”

“It isn't what you think,” Sinclair replied. “I want to talk to Delenn.”

She nodded in understanding. “We should go.”

He sighed heavily. “I know.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“If you ask me, this is going to be nothing but trouble,” Garibaldi muttered, then looked down, then up, then down and up again. “Liking the look, Ivanova.”

She scowled at him, remembering the last time he has said that. “Is there something you want to tell us, Mr Garibaldi?”

“Like what?” he asked. “You look good in dress uniform...with your hair down.”

“Garibaldi, I wear my hair down a lot.”

“Yeah, but it looks different.”

Sinclair listened to their banter and forced himself to relax. He was aware of Delenn stood a little way from him, and was surprised to sense some uncertainty in her. She seemed almost uncomfortable, which was strange, but now was not the time to try and engage her in conversation about it. The Minbari delegation arrived, headed by Alit Neroon. As he and Delenn exchanged pleasantries, Sinclair could see she really wasn't happy about something, and he had an idea what it could be. As she introduced him and the other officers to Neroon, Sinclair could also see that the Alit wasn't happy either, and it made him feel better. It seemed Ivanova was right; he wasn't alone in his feelings about this whole...'show'. And he was certain there were some Minbari who were less tolerant than he was; like Alit Neroon.

When he was finally alone with Delenn, he managed to steer the conversation around to how she felt about the situation. Though she didn't actually answer him directly, her silence and other comments were enough for Sinclair to realise his hunch was probably right. She did not agree with the way Bramner's body was being displayed, but what could she do about it?

“Well, that's done,” Garibaldi said as he and Ivanova walked up to Sinclair.

“So quickly?”

“Let's just say Alit Neroon knows what he wants and is used to getting his own way, if you catch my drift.”

“Did he dismiss you?” Sinclair asked.

“Not exactly, Commander,” Ivanova replied. Then she shook her head. “It's fine, really. He didn't want us there, we didn't want to be there. Everybody's happy.”

Garibaldi looked at her, his eyebrows raised. “Oh yeah, your diplomacy is coming along very well.”

Ivanova just glared at him. “If there's nothing else, Commander, there are a few things I need to attend to.”

Sinclair nodded. “It's fine, go ahead.”

“You need me?” Garibaldi asked.

Sinclair stared into space for a while before nodding. “Let's change out of these,” he said, gesturing to their dress uniforms, “Then meet me in my office. I want to go over the plans for viewing the Shai Alit's body with a fine tooth comb.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova couldn't have timed her entrance to med lab any better. The girl was just waking up, though as she watched Talia help her control her 'talent', as she watched how gentle the telepath was with the girl, Ivanova found herself feeling conflicted. If it had been anyone else but Talia, she would have been pleased at the care they were showing the young girl.

“Her name's Alisa Beldon, she's been living in Down Below,” Talia was saying to Franklin, bringing Ivanova back to the present. “She's broadcasting all over the place, she can't control her thoughts.”

“I had to eat,” Alisa said, startling them. Both Talia and Ivanova turned, ending up shoulder to shoulder, though both pretended not to notice. “You don't eat unless you have credits to pay for stuff.” Then she looked at the officer. “Don't worry, I'm used to doing for myself. My mum died when I was young, same as yours.”

“Stop that!” Ivanova exclaimed, moving away.

To her surprise, Talia admonished Alisa, but gently. “You never read another person's mind without permission,” she said. “It isn't polite. Just because you have a talent doesn't mean you should abuse it.”

“I'm sorry,” Alisa said to Ivanova, who waved it aside.

Talia's thoughtfulness had surprised her, but then her comment about abusing the talent made her angry. What exactly did she think the Psi Corps did? And then to assume Alisa was going back to Earth.... Ivanova wasn't having it. “She isn't leaving, Ms Winters. Not as long as I have anything to say about it.”

Franklin caught her at the door. “Is there any reason why you're interested in this particular case, Lieutenant Commander?”

“Yes,” she replied, looking him in the eye but not elaborating before leaving med lab.

“Hey!”

Ivanova had made it halfway down the corridor before she heard Garibaldi's shout. “Mr Garibaldi, is there a problem?”

“I just heard about the incident in the Zocalo with a young girl?” He phrased it as a question, giving her time to answer and presumably explain herself.

“It's under control.”

“That's fine, but I'd like to know why I wasn't told about it before.”

“Because we were busy with the Minbari. Because I said it's under control.” Ivanova stopped and looked at him. “Let me handle this one, Michael. Please.”

Not much could surprise Garibaldi, but that did. “Okay. Does the Commander know?”

“I'll inform him later.”

The security chief held his hands up. “Alright. Your call, Lieutenant Commander.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Garibaldi was glad he wasn't even the slightest bit distracted as Neroon and Delenn entered Sinclair's office, without knocking or any of the pleasantries that usually accompanied such a visit. Neroon was spoiling for a fight, and with Sinclair no less, Garibaldi could tell. The Minbari warrior could have picked anyone on the station, but he would have known that Sinclair was at the Battle of the Line, would know exactly how to needle him. And needle him he did. The minute he started to issue demands, Sinclair's unusually thin veneer of patience and diplomacy cracked like glass.

“This is my station, I don't take orders here.”

Garibaldi resisted the urge to roll his eyes and reply sarcastically, 'Nnooo, only from Ivanova, Delenn, the senators back home, the other ambassadors...yeah, no orders for you Jeff.' Instead, he just kept an eye on the unfolding scene, his hands once again held loosely by his sides, ready to restrain Sinclair if necessary, and from the shift in expression on Neroon's face, it could be extremely necessary very soon.

The Minbari had seemed unsure about the Commander, but now he smirked, as though he had seen what he was looking for. “Impetuous. Is this how you reacted on the Line, Commander?”

Sinclair grated out, “This isn't the Line.”

Garibaldi sneaked a look at Delenn, who was just watching what was happening without making a move to reign either Neroon or Sinclair in, and that surprised him. Both men may have outranked the ambassador, but that meant nothing; she was tiny, but a force to be reckoned with and not someone he would ever like to argue with.

Neroon's smirk grew. “No, we were in control there,” he said.

Garibaldi knew Sinclair was going to snap the second before he did. “How would you like to...?” he started to say, though it came out more like a growl, and even though he could have easily walked around the table, he looked ready for jumping over it and ripping Neroon's throat out with his bare hands.

Then Delenn finally stepped in, before Sinclair could deliver a truly evil insult, as Garibaldi knew he was capable of doing on occasion. And he realised as he watched Neroon defer almost meekly to the ambassador that there was more going on that he realised. A quick look at Sinclair's face, the sudden shift in expression, told Garibaldi that his friend knew more than he was letting on as well.

“Diplomacy, Commander?” Garibaldi said a few moments later when they were alone.

Sinclair looked at him, his anger dissipating quickly and he sighed. “I know, I know.”

The security chief held his hands up. “Nothing to do with me.”

“We're supposed to be present at the viewing of the Shai Alit's body.”

“Really? And this is a good idea because...?”

“The war is over.”

“Are you trying to convince yourself, me, the rest of the station or the Minbari?” Garibaldi asked.

Sinclair sighed again. “All of the above.” He stared at the doorway the Minbari had left through. “I want you with me at the viewing, Michael, but I want Ivanova to stay out of it. Someone has to stay out here keeping an eye on things.”

Garibaldi wondered if he knew about the girl in med lab who Ivanova had taken such a keen interest in. It wouldn't have surprised him; the Commander's knowledge of the workings of the station astounded him sometimes, but he suspected this time he was in the dark. “Want me to tell her?”

Sinclair nodded. “Then double check everything again. I don't want any surprises tomorrow.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

The Shai Alit's bodyw as missing. That was definitely what Garibaldi would call a surprise, but right now he was more interested in the scene being played out in Sinclair's office. One minute Delenn was yelling and carrying on in anger over what had happened, the next she was telling Neroon, fairly bluntly, to be quiet and behave, which surprisingly he did. There was definitely more going on; definitely more to the Minbari ambassador than met the eye, than anyone else knew. With the exception of perhaps Sinclair. And Lennier. Garibaldi wouldn't be surprised if G'Kar and Londo knew as well. And as for Kosh.... He almost laughed. Maybe it was only him who _didn't_ know what was going on, which would be a first.

“Well, that went well,” Garibaldi said after Delenn and Neroon had finally left.

“Very well.”

“Strange turnaround Ambassador Delenn did, don't you think?” Garibaldi said mildly.

“Hmm,” was all the reply Sinclair gave.

Garibaldi was about to pursue the matter further when he saw Ivanova stood in the doorway. Looking at Sinclair, he said, “I have a few things to attend to,” nodding before crossing the room. As he passed Ivanova, he murmured, “Fun, fun, fun,” while raising his eyebrows.

Ivanova had been focussed on Sinclair, intent on telling him about Alisa, though the minute she walked into his office, she realised what a bad idea that was. Something had obviously happened, and it was obviously bad. She glanced at Garibaldi, smiling quizzically at his comment, then looked back at the Commander, her head slightly on one side in question.

Sinclair had been watching Ivanova, wondering why she had come to his office now, though he expected she had heard about what had happened. But then came her confused expression over Garibaldi's comment, and he realised she was here on other business, something important to her by the looks of her posture.

“Garibaldi said this was going to be trouble,” Sinclair said, by way of explanation and greeting.

Ivanova gave him a consoling look and then smiled. “There's nothing more annoying than Mr Garibaldi when he's right.”

Sinclair smiled right back at her, he couldn't help it, and he allowed himself to forget everything, just concentrated on her and lost himself in her smile. He must have made some non-committal reply because Ivanova then laughed a little, and Sinclair drifted happily in a sea of what ifs, maybes, possiblys. So when he felt a touch on his arm, his jumped, as though he had been given an electric shock, and he refocussed his gaze to see Ivanova sat opposite it, her blue eyes shining with concern.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I don't know. Did you hear about what happened?” he replied, and she shook her head. “Bramner's body has disappeared.”

Ivanova's eyes widened almost impossibly. “Disappeared? Someone stole it?”

“I'm not sure.” There was something about the whole situation that was nagging Sinclair, something that just didn't sit right with him, but he couldn't put his finger on it. “Did you want to see me?”

Ivanova pulled back and sobered. “Yes, I did. If you've got a moment for another matter, Commander...a personal matter.”

Sinclair was surprised by her formality as he always was, and he nodded. “For you, always.”

She smiled briefly in appreciation. “We found a young girl, an orphan. She's been living in Down Below. She stole something from the Zocalo yesterday. That's why I was late, because I was handling the situation. I didn't tell you earlier because....”

Sinclair waved her apology aside. “It's fine. Go on.”

Ivanova took a deep breath. “It turns out she's a telepath. Now Ms Winters wants to send her to the Psi Corps immediately....”

“But?”

“I believe she should have a choice in what happens to her.”

The conversation they had the previous day came back to Sinclair; he had known Ivanova was trying to tell him something, now he understood what it was. He was concerned for the girl, of course, but also for his second in command, who was taking this case extremely personally. “I agree, but does she have any other choice?” he asked gently.

Ivanova sighed and looked away. “I don't know. I just know I have to try. This girl, Alisa, has a change many telepaths don't. A chance to make a life for herself away from Psi Corps and not to have to hide who or what she is. And that's important to me. I lost my mother to the Psi Corps; I will not lose Alisa.” She looked back at him, a little surprised and very glad to see pride and support in his expression. “If we can keep her under our jurisdiction long enough, we should be able to find another solution.”

Sinclair thought about objecting, but his heart wasn't in it. Personally he agreed with Ivanova, but there were rules involving human telepaths and the Psi Corps, though he did start to wonder why a representative hadn't arrived already. “What does Ms Winters think of all this?” he had to ask.

Now Ivanova did show her surprise. “She doesn't agree, of course.”

“Hmm.”

“Commander...Jeff...I can't let this slide.” She smiled apologetically at him, and he knew that even if he ordered her to back off, she wouldn't. This was something she needed to do, and he understood that all too well. 

Sinclair reached across the desk and covered her hand with his. “I know,” he replied, his voice soft, tender and weary in equal measures. “Do what you think is right. I'll back your play.”

Ivanova looked down at their hands and nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She waited another moment, then stood, carefully extracting her hand. As she reached the doorway, though, she turned and smiled again at him. “Thank you,” she said quietly. Sinclair just nodded, and her smile grew. She lingered longer than was appropriate, wanting and needing to say and hear more, but it wasn't the right time. Didn't seem to be the right time for anything.

Once she had left, Sinclair sighed and stared at a spot off to one side of his desk. What other choices did Alisa have? As he thought about it, he realised the question should be 'which other races have telepaths?' He wondered how long it would take Ivanova to reach that train of thought. And then he thought about Bramner's body. Why was it taken? Who could want it? Only one person could possibly answer that question, and Sinclair knew he had to make a visit. But first, he had to get out of his dress uniform.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Delenn knew who was at her door before she admitted him entry. “Commander Sinclair. To what do I owe this visit?”

Sinclair sighed. “Let's cut the games, Delenn,” he replied as soon as he was inside her quarters. His tone wasn't disrespectful, but he also wanted to let her know he was in charge. “Something strange is going on, and I think you know more than you are telling me.”

“We all know more than we let on, Commander,” she admitted. “But I presume you mean the disappearance of Bramner's body.”

Sinclair had already started to pace. “None of it makes any sense to me. There are things that just don't fit together.”

“Such as?”

“Why here? Why now? And why take the body in the first place?”

Delenn busied herself making drinks. “I cannot answer those questions for you. That is Mr Garibaldi's job, is it not?”

Sinclair heard her speak, noticed how she turned away from him, and knew she was lying. But he was stood in front of a table, having paused in his pacing, staring at...something. He wasn't sure what it was, some sort of structure made of brightly coloured pieces, yet it struck such a chord of deja vu in him that he felt his knees buckle. It didn't make sense. None of it. Not his life, his purpose, not these feelings of deja vu, of being toyed with – why him?

To cover up the sudden silence, before Delenn could turn and notice him staring, Sinclair walked over to where she was. “But why would anyone _want_ to take Bramner's body?” he asked again; he knew that was the key to the whole mystery. “If he was that highly regarded.” He perched on a stool.

As Delenn spoke, Sinclair found himself wondering just how much of the Minbari before was the real one, and how much was just fabrication. He knew she was Grey Council; he knew she was there when he was tortured. Yet she didn't know he knew, and she never gave anything away to suggest she was anything more than a simple ambassador. Yet when Sinclair stopped to think about it, she did. Like the way she handled Neroon so deftly, the way he deferred to her. And he was certain Garibaldi had started to notice something wasn't quite tracking with Delenn; he wondered how long it would take the security chief to come up with plausible scenarios. Perhaps it was time soon to have a talk with Garibaldi; know his contacts, Sinclair had been thinking perhaps he could help him figure out why he was taken, and then released, by the Minbari. And why after that, the war ended suddenly.

“I've heard it was the religious caste who issued the surrender order,” Sinclair said after a while, trying to make his comment innocent.

But Delenn wasn't fooled. Though she didn't look at him, her own mind was starting to work in a different direction. What if Sinclair had found out the truth? Even part of the truth. Could she kill him as she had agreed to do? Or would she protect him, putting her further out of favour with the Grey Council than she currently was. There was a crossroads looming,too far for her to see the choices, but close enough for her to know which direction they all went in would be vastly important.

They spoke a while longer, but the mood was different. It was as though each was aware the other knew more than they were letting on, but it was a game to see who would cave first. Sinclair didn't enjoy it, though; he felt rotten, lying to Delenn even though she had lied to him from the day she met him. He felt bad lying to Garibaldi, the man who had saved his life more times than he could count. And he hated lying to Ivanova. Would there ever be a chance to clear the air? Would they all ever manage to be honest with each other? Would that be any good or would it tear them apart?

“I should go,” Sinclair said, setting his cup down. “As soon as we find anything out, I'll let you know.”

“I appreciate your efforts, Commander. And do not concern yourself with Neroon,” Delenn told him. “He will not...how do you say? Make a nuisance of himself.”

Sinclair managed a smile. “Of course he will.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Strange as it sounded, Garibaldi actually enjoyed talking to Na'toth, but he didn't take her suggestion about talking to the Pak'ma'rah. At least not yet. Instead, he headed to the ambassadorial wing, pressed the chime to a door and stood waiting.

“Mr Garibaldi. Have you found something?” Delenn asked.

“Not yet, no. I was actually wondering if you would accompany me. We're searching all quarters and public areas, and that means command staff as well,” he explained. “I figured it would be best if you accompanied me while searching Commander Sinclair and Lieutenant Commander Ivanova's quarters. At least then you know it has been done properly.”

“I would never have thought otherwise.”

“Then Alit Neroon knows it has been done properly.”

Delenn inclined her head and tried not the smile. “Do the Commander and Lieutenant Commander Ivanova know we will be entering their quarters?”

Garibaldi did smile. “Not yet.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Franklin didn't see anything wrong with Talia talking to Alisa; after all, the older telepath was doing her best to help the girl control her talent. And while he had no love for the Psi Corps either, he just didn't understand Ivanova's stubbornness in this situation. Although if they could find an alternative to Psi Corps, Franklin would be interested in it; you never knew when information like that could come in handy.

Then he saw Ivanova's abrupt dismissal of Talia and rolled his eyes. He wanted to intervene at that point, but didn't particularly want Ivanova's wrath aimed at him, and also knew she wouldn't listen to him anyway, not unless she wanted to. But then he watched as she changed while talking to Alisa, and he slowly got the idea into his head that there was more going on that just what was happening on the surface. But that didn't mean that Ivanova and Talia could keep acting the way they were doing. Deciding Alisa was safe for the time being, Franklin left med lab.

In Alisa's room, though Ivanova was talking about her mother, her thoughts were on someone else entirely, and she was projecting so loudly that Alisa couldn't help but pick up on them. There was a man, tall and proud, yet humble in his manner. A leader and a warrior, but a gentle, peaceful soul. At first she wondered if it was Ivanova's father, but then a uniform and a symbol materialised and Alisa realised it was Commander Sinclair. The rush of emotion that came from Ivanova thinking about his image was intense and the young telepath pulled back. She wanted to tell Ivanova it would be okay, that things had a way of working out, but she knew that is she brought up her feelings for Sinclair, she would deny it and also be extremely unhappy and uncomfortable. Alisa liked Ivanova and wished there was something she could do to ease the officer's internal warring, but already she was learning that just because she had a gift didn't mean she could meddle.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair was just enjoying a quiet five minutes and a cup of coffee when he became aware of someone stood next to him. Looking up, he was surprised to see Franklin, hands in his pockets, waiting almost nervously to be acknowledged.

“Doctor,” Sinclair said. “Have a seat?”

There was clearly something serious on his mind and the Commander didn't want to push him into a casual setting if the conversation was going to take a turn for the worst. Their relationship had been good up until the incident with Shon a few months earlier and since then it had been strained dispite Sinclair's best efforts to smooth things over.

“Thank you,” Franklin replied.

“Problem?”

“You could say that, Commander. I take it you've heard about the young woman who was brought into med lab earlier, Alisa Beldon.”

Sinclair nodded. It wasn't phrased like a question but he answered anyway. “She's a telepath.”

“That's right. The problem is that both Lieutenant Commander Ivanova and Ms Winters want what's best for her, or so they say.” Franklin rolled his eyes a little. “I can understand both points of view, but it's turning into a civil war!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. Sinclair suppressed a smile. “Don't get me wrong, I think Alisa _should_ be shown more options that just the Psi Corps, and personally, I hope she _doesn't_ go down that road. But Ivanova and Ms Winters are turning the whole thing into what they want, not what's best for Alisa.”

“Want me to have a word with them both?” Sinclair asked after giving Franklin a moment to collect himself.

“If it wouldn't be too much trouble, Commander,” he replied gratefully.

“No trouble. If I have to, I can give Ivanova a direct order. Ms Winters, however, is ultimately accountable to the Psi Corps, not me.” Sinclair sipped his coffee. “I'm surprised she hasn't contacted them already about this.”

His meaning was clear and Franklin frowned, resting his elbows on the table. “You think she _doesn't_ want Alisa to go with the Corps?”

Sinclair thought back to the Ironheart incident; he was certain that had done nothing to improve Talia's view of the Psi Corps, but he didn't bring that up. Instead, he replied carefully, “I think perhaps she is more interested in proving herself against Ivanova that actually winning.”

Franklin took a moment to digest that. “At least they're talking, I suppose.”

“Exactly.” Sinclair regarded him carefully. “Still want me to talk to them?”

Franklin heaved a long-suffering sigh. “No.” He stood up. “Besides, if they annoy me too much, there are plenty of places around here to hide bodies.”

“Even from Garibaldi?” Sinclair asked, amused.

“You're right, Commander. Fusion reactor it is.” He nodded once before walking away, leaving the Commander to shake his head and chuckle quietly to himself.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Lieutenant Commander, can I have a word?”

Ivanova turned surprised. “Doctor. Is something wrong?”

“Well, Alisa is talking to Na'toth....”

She rolled her eyes. “I know. I'm not sure that was such a good idea.”

“No, it is a good idea. Actually, that's what I wanted to say. I haven't exactly been easy on you through all this, but I think you're doing the right thing,” Franklin said.

Ivanova stared at him, then smiled a little. “Thank you. And I'm sorry I've been a pain too. It's just...this is personal for me.”

“I understand.”

“Shall we see what mayhem Na'toth is causing on G'Kar's behalf?” Ivanova asked.

Franklin smiled. “I'm right behind you.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

After Neroon had stormed out of Sinclair's office, unhappy with the way the investigation wasn't progressing, the Commander decided he needed a distraction, and so he stood and made his way to med lab. When someone entered the room, Alisa didn't look up immediately as she was concentrating on some exercises which Talia had given her. She liked the other telepath and appreciated the help, but she wished she would lighten up a little. And there was confusion there too, over her commitment to Psi Corps, as well as her feelings towards Ivanova. The latter really was none of Alisa's concern; neither was the former, but it did help to make up her mind about joining the Corps.

Eventually, though, when the other person in the room didn't speak, she forced herself to open her eyes and look at who was visiting her. And found herself starting into the warmest pair of brown eyes she had ever seen. In that instant, she understood completely how Ivanova could have fallen so quickly for her commanding officer. And then he spoke, which made his appeal all the clearer.

“Alisa Beldon? My name is Jeffery Sinclair, I'm the Commander of Babylon 5,” he said, smiling.

For a few moments, Alisa couldn't reply, or even think, so mesmerised she was by this man in front of her. Finally, though, she forced herself to say something. “Hi, Commander. I'm not in trouble...am I?”

Sinclair shook his head, still smiling. “No. I just thought I'd drop by and see how you were doing. Lieutenant Commander Ivanova has told me all about your case and I would have been here sooner, but I've been busy. I'm sorry.” He gestured to a chair. “May I?”

“Sure. And you don't have to apologise, I'm not that important to visit, but I appreciate you stopping by.” As she watched him, Alisa began to wonder how viable it would be to just stay on Babylon 5. Not that she would ever act on her crush; Sinclair was much too old for her to start with, and then there was Ivanova. Still.... “Dr Franklin has been great. And Ivanova and Talia too, in their own way.”

“Good. Alisa, I'd rather you didn't say anything to Ivanova about my visit. I said I'd let her handle this and I don't want her thinking I don't trust her judgement. But with everything that has been going on, I wanted to get your thoughts about it all.”

He was honest, she could sense it, and habit made her give an honest reply. “I'm okay. I guess I'm lucky that I'm being given a choice as to what happens to me. From the sounds of it, telepaths can't exactly do a whole lot without some sort of supervision. And I really appreciate the help, it's just....”

Sinclair tilted his head to one side. “What is it?” He leant forward and smiled gently. “You can tell me, it's okay.”

“Ivanova and Talia seem more interested in arguing over me or about me than actually helping me sometimes.” Alisa chewed her bottom lip and lowered her gaze, until she felt a hand on her arm.

“They both mean well in their own way, but they're both stubborn. Don't blame yourself.” Sinclair sat back. “This is the second time someone has mentioned their behaviour to me, but I don't think I'm going to do anything about it.”

“You're not?”

He shook his head. “No. I think you should, though.”

“Me?” Alisa repeated, her eyes wide.

Sinclair nodded, smiling. “If you stand up to them, they will be more convinced that you can make your own choice and that you really will be okay on your own. That is, of course, unless you decide to join the Psi Corps, in which case I'd appreciate a warning so we can handle Ivanova,” he said dryly.

Alisa laughed. “Won't they be mad at me if I yell at them, though?” she asked.

“I doubt it very much.” He stood and held her gaze. “The choice is yours and you're right; as a telepath, you're very luck to have that choice. Just make sure you choose for yourself and no one else.”

Though she knew she shouldn't, Alisa picked up on Sinclair's thoughts at that moment; a collage, a mosaic, a painful combination of memories of another Babylon station, of things he had seen in the past and the future, of choices which had been made for him, a life that wasn't his own, and his doubts as to whether he would ever learn the truth. She wanted to comfort him, tell him everything would be okay, like she had wanted to do with Ivanova, and it was so clear to her then that the two officers needed each other more than they realised or were willing to admit. But she didn't say anything, didn't let him know she had seen things she wasn't supposed to. Instead, Alisa just smiled up at him.

“Thank, Commander.”

“You're welcome. Miss Beldon.” He nodded and flashed her a grin as he left.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Secretly, Ivanova was pleased that Alisa had stood up to her and Talia, and she was certain that the last possibility could well be the right one for the young telepath. Although she could have easily contacted Delenn from med lab, Ivanova had said she needed to go somewhere else. She didn't; she just needed coffee.

“Is that seat taken?”

Ivanova looked up and smiled. “No. All yours. Coffee?”

“Thanks. And definitely.” Sinclair sat down and sighed.

“Long day?”

“Long day, long week, long month....”

“I get it. Any closer to solving the mystery of the disappearing body?”

Sinclair chuckled. “That could be the title of a book.”

“A bad book,” Ivanova admitted.

“I have...a theory. Well, more of a hunch. A gut feeling. If I'm right....” He shrugged. “If I'm wrong, it will spell big trouble.”

“Why do I have the feeling that it will mean just as much trouble if you're right?” she replied.

He shrugged again. “How are things going with the young telepath? Alisa, wasn't it?” He was certain Alisa hadn't mentioned his visit to Ivanova and he wanted to keep it that way.

Ivanova nodded as she sipped her coffee. “She isn't keen on the Narns, or Psi Corps. But I do have one other option, and I think it could be the right one.”

“The Centauri?” Sinclair asked straight-faced.

Ivanova spluttered. “What? No! I -” Then she stopped as he started to grin. “You....”

“I am your commanding officer,” he supplied quickly. He didn't want to use the word 'superior'; as far as he was concerned, no one was above anyone else on the station. They all had their roles, their parts to play. “So, the Minbari then.”

“It seems a good idea.”

“It is.” Sinclair drank a few mouthfuls of coffee. “Susan, I know you don't like Psi Corps and I don't blame you. But have you ever thought about separating the person from the organisation?”

“What do you mean, Commander?” Ivanova asked.

“Try to get to know Talia as a person, and don't just see her as a member of Psi Corps. I know it's difficult, but it can be done.” Like him with Delenn; he liked her as an individual, not as a part of the Grey Council.

Ivanova stared into the distance. “She hasn't told Psi Corps about Alisa, you know, despite saying she would. Why is that?”

“Maybe you could ask her yourself some time,” Sinclair suggested.

She suddenly focussed on him. “Do you ever wonder if we'll make it out of this place alive?” she asked, her question completely out of the blue.

“Yes,” he replied honestly. “Sometimes I don't think it's possible; sometimes I don't think I want it to be.”

“I know exactly how you feel.”

“Were you going somewhere with that line of thought?”

“Not really. Just making sure we're still on the same page.”

Sinclair was sure that made some sort of sense to Ivanova, but it did nothing but confuse him.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

As soon as the door opened, Alisa felt a calmness wash over her and as she entered Delenn's quarters with Ivanova, she felt comfortable and something else as well. A sense of purpose, if she chose to believe in such things, and at her young age, 'purpose' wasn't a word she was entirely happy with, but it was there nonetheless. She also found talking to Delenn extremely easy and pleasant, but more interesting to her was the subtext between Ivanova and the Minbari. It was subtle, almost completely subconscious, but there was...something. Alisa almost sighed and laughed at the same time. There seemed to be a lot of 'somethings' between certain people on the station, and she would have loved to know how the pieces all fit together. Maybe one day she would.

“They're not paid?” Alisa exclaimed after Delenn had explained how Minbari telepaths served the community.

Ivanova, her arm along the back of the sofa, touched Alisa's shoulder, causing the young telepath to turn around. She smiled and was about to tell her it was okay, that the Minbari would look after her well, when a kaleidoscope of colours caught her eye, and she turned to look at a colourful, crystalline-looking structure on the table. It was something she had never seen the likes of before and fascinated her, but before she could say anything else about anything, Alisa suddenly jumped up and all but ran out of Delenn's quarters.

Ivanova was torn between chasing after the girl and apologising to the ambassador. “I'm sorry,” she managed to say on the way out, hoping her expression would convey the depth of her apology.

“Yes, of course,” Delenn replied absently; clearly her mind was also suddenly somewhere else.

Ivanova finally caught Alisa's arm halfway down the corridor and was about to give her a piece of her mind – literally, if necessary – when the young telepath dropped a bombshell. “Is there something going on about a dead body? Because I saw something.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Garibaldi looked from Ivanova to Alisa and back again. “You're sure?”

Ivanova had her arm around the young girl's shoulder and she nodded. “I believe her.”

“Miss Beldon? Are you sure you saw that?”

“Totally,” Alisa replied.

“Alright.” Garibaldi rocked backwards and then forwards on his feet, his hands in his pockets. “Let's go to see the Commander. I think he should hear this.”

They arrived just in time to see Sinclair knock Neroon flat on his back, an expression of shock and anger etched on the Minbari's face. Ivanova was willing to bet that he was rarely bested in a fight, and to lose to a human? It must have galled him. Then she looked around Sinclair quarters.

“Doing a little redecorating, Commander?” she asked mildly.

“With the help of the Alit here,” he replied, undoing his jacket.

Garibaldi stood in the doorway. “And you were doing what, exactly?” he asked Neroon.

“Everywhere has been searched except for here, where no one would dare to go.”

The security chief shook his head. “That's where you're wrong. I searched these quarters personally, with Ambassador Delenn observing. Maybe you should have spoken to her before taking matters into your own hands.”

“Mr Garibaldi, please escort Alit Neroon back to his quarters,” Sinclair said, smiling a little but his eyes were on Ivanova. “We'll continue the search without his help.” Garibaldi nodded to Sinclair, then to Ivanova as he and Neroon walked out. He passed Alisa in the hallway and winked at her; she grinned back. “Lieutenant Commander.”

Ivanova resisted the urge to touch him. He looked so tired, and now a little beat up as well. “I've brought someone to see you, Commander. The young telepath I told you about? Alisa Beldon?” He nodded. “Well, during the meeting with Delenn, she suddenly ran out, and...I think you should talk to her.”

“Alright,” Sinclair replied.

Ivanova disappeared and reappeared less than a minute later with Alisa, who had her hands behind her back. “I'll leave you two to talk,” she said, hesitating briefly.

“I'll be alright,” Alisa assured her.

Sinclair gestured for the young telepath to enter his quarters properly, and he smiled gently as he greeted her. “Miss Beldon.”

“Commander,” she replied, without any hint they had spoke before. Ivanova nodded to them both and left, though she had wanted to stay and see what Sinclair's reaction would be to the news. She had thought nothing could shock her, and she was pretty certain the Commander was of the same mind, but she really didn't know what to make of what she had just heard. Shaking her head, she wandered up to the command deck, just for the sake of some normality.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“So basically it was Delenn who stole Bramner's body, and cremated it on board the station, without anyone knowing?” Ivanova asked, her tone incredulous. She was shocked, but also impressed. She also wondered, not for the first time, if there was more to the Minbari ambassador than met the eye. “All because she wanted to honour his last wish.”

“Basically, yeah,” Garibaldi replied, sipping his coffee.

They were sat in the mess hall having lunch, Sinclair and the security chief filling Ivanova in on what had happened. “And how did Neroon take it?” she asked.

Sinclair smiled faintly. “I'm not sure how much Delenn told him, but he's leaving quietly, and he even apologised for his behaviour towards this station and towards me.”

Ivanova's eyebrows rose even higher than they already were. “I'd like to know how she managed that.”

Garibaldi pulled a face. “You and me both.” Then his link went off. “Never fails. Garibaldi, go.”

 _“Chief, we've got a commotion down in the Zocalo, looks like a dust up between two rival sports fans,”_ one of the security guards told him.

“On my way.” He stood and drained the rest of his coffee. “Just once, I'd like to not eat and run.”

Ivanova smiled at him almost fondly as he left, then turned her attention to Sinclair. “Everything alright, Commander?”

The room was empty except for them and he relaxed a little. “I'm not sure. I thought I was over the war, over what happened. But I guess not. And something Neroon said to me before he left....” _'You talk like a Minbari.'_ “It's not the first time such a thing has been pointed out to me.”

“I'm sure that makes sense to someone somewhere, but unfortunately not to me.”

He just smiled and made a throw away gesture. “Has Alisa made a decision yet?”

“Not yet, but I think she will soon.”

“What about you?”

Ivanova was tempted to play dumb and ask what he was talking about, but she held herself in check. “You're right, as usual. It's a very annoying habit you have, you know,” she told him mock-seriously. “The next chance I get, I will make an effort.”

“Good.” Then he stood as well. “If you'll excuse me, there's something I have to do.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

She was in the Zen garden, as he knew she would be. She had a distant, almost sad expression on her face, which fell away to be replaced by her usual mask as he entered. “I though you'd be seeing Neroon's cruiser off,” he said mildly.

“I have seen cruisers before,” she replied in the same tone.

“Me too.” Sinclair paused next to the bench, knowing they needed to talk but unsure how to start. Despite knowing he was in charge, despite knowing that Delenn was partly responsible for his torture during the war, he still felt he should defer to her, show her respect, and it confused and amused him at the same time.

Delenn watched him carefully, sensing a shift in their relationship somehow, and then she moved up a little, allowing him space to sit down, which he did. There was a long silence as the two of them collected their thoughts, but before Sinclair could launch into a speech, Delenn spoke.

“There is someone on this station who interests me.” And just like that, the moment was lost. Just like that, she deflected him and he was starting to tire of not being allowed to ask questions to which he deserved answers. “Alisa Beldon has a most unusual psi quality for a human,” Delenn explained.

Sinclair sighed and looked away. “So I'm told.”

There was a great sadness in his voice and it upset Delenn to hear, but she could not give him what he wanted, not yet at least. There was more at stake than he realised, but the longer she lied to him, the worse she felt. It was an impossible position for her, yet a necessary one. On impulse, she laid a hand on his arm and waited until he looked at her. As always, she was surprised by the depth of emotion in his eyes, by his features that seemed to familiar to her from before she ever met him. She wanted to apologise, not just for the situation with Bramner's body and Neroon, but for everything. She wanted to give him all the answers he sought and more, but words failed her completely. But it didn't matter. Sinclair was watching her expression carefully, wondering if she was aware of how much her eyes were telling him. And finally, realising that carrying any kind of anger for any longer would just hurt him, he smiled, forgiving her.

Delenn smiled back, understanding, and removed her hand, picking up the thread of conversation as if nothing had happened. “She is very confused, though. She doesn't care for either of the choices offered by Narn or Earth.”

Sinclair had known what would happen from the moment Ivanova 'found' the third option, but he played along, glad something was going right for someone. “And?” he replied.

Delenn stared at him for a long time, marvelling at the man he was and wondering how different things might have been if he was Minbari when Alisa walked into the garden. The young telepath sensed Delenn's feelings and hid a smile; she wondered if Sinclair was aware of the effect he seemed to have on the opposite sex or whether his obliviousness was also part of his charm. But there was also a great darkness in the Minbari ambassador, and something which surprised Alisa: fear.

Carefully pulling her mind away so Delenn wouldn't sense the intrusion, Alisa put a big smile on her face and said, “Commander, do you think Ivanova and Talia would be really teed off if I went with the Minbari?”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Watching Alisa walk off created an easy starting point for Ivanova to start thinking of Talia as a person instead of just seeing the uniform. “I think she'll be alright,” she said.

“I think so too,” Talia replied.

They stood for a few moments longer, then Ivanova turned her head slightly. “How did you know the Commander had said Alisa could be a big help with the Minbari?” Talia raised an eyebrow, but didn't reply, though her expression clearly said 'how do you think?!' Ivanova rolled her eyes and couldn't repress a smile. “Alright, that was a stupid question.”

Talia laughed. “Only a little.” Then she paused. “Are you busy right now?”

Ivanova thought about it, debated about lying then decided not to. “Not right now.”

“I wasn't exactly polite to you over this whole thing,” Talia said in an apologetic tone. “Can I buy you a drink to make up for it?”

It was tempting to decline, out of habit if nothing else, but Sinclair's words came back to her. “We both got a little hot, I think,” she replied. “A drink would be good, but it'll have to be coffee as I go on duty in half an hour.”

Talia was surprised but managed to cover it quickly. “Of course,” she said, and the two of them walked off.

Alisa could sense the two of them even though she couldn't see them, and she smiled to herself, glad they had finally decided to try and get along. They weren't that much different, really, and perhaps that was the problem. As she neared the docking area, she sensed someone waiting for her, and was already grinning widely before she walked through the door and saw him.

“Hi!” she said brightly.

“Hi,” Sinclair replied, smiling. Even though he didn't know her very well, he found he was going to miss Alisa. He sometimes forget what it was like to be around a young person; their outlook on life was so different and he wondered if he had ever been that young. And she was so warm and outgoing, she was a joy to be around. “I just wanted to say safe journey.”

“Thanks.” Alisa found herself a little overwhelmed in Sinclair's presence, and she couldn't explain why. She knew she had a crush on him, but it was something more than that, something different.

They started walking and then he asked a question, one that was difficult for him but she could tell the answer was important to him. “I don't like to ask, and normally I wouldn't, but when you were in Delenn's mind, did you see anything else?”

Alisa knew he was looking for answers, and she did see something else but she suspected it wasn't what he was looking for at all. “There was one other thing,” she replied, almost apologetically. “Just one word: chrysalis. She shut down real fast when I touched that.”

Sinclair frowned. “Chrysalis? As in cocoon?”

Alisa shrugged. “I'm not sure.”

But he didn't hear her; his mind was elsewhere completely. A humming sound filled his ears, a pain in his head as though it was being reshaped, and he could almost see the picture fully.... The final boarding call for Alisa's transport shattered his recollection and he forced a smile. “I'm sure it's nothing.”

The young telepath looked off to one side, spying her exit. “I guess I have to go.”

There was so much reluctance that Sinclair's smile became genuine. “Good luck,” he said, holding his hand out.

Alisa shook it formally. “Thanks.” Then unable to help herself, because she was going to miss him and because he looked like he needed it, she wrapped her arms around him and snuggled into his chest. And for no reason at all, Sinclair laughed, the deep laugh he rarely used, and Alisa smiled into his uniform, glad she had lightened his mood. Then without warning, she stepped away from him and was gone.

Sinclair watched her go, then wandered back out into the station. He thought about contacting Ivanova, just to talk, but as he passed through the Zocalo, he saw she was deep in conversation with Talia and so he left them to it. Garibaldi was probably busy working, and there was no one else he felt like spending time with. And for the first time in a long time, Sinclair felt inexorably alone.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's it for a few months while I go off on my travels (can't wait!) I'll be back in October, so I can guarantee this story will be updated before Christmas at the latest. I hope the story isn't moving along too quickly, or growing too OOC. Thanks to those of you following along and leaving kudos so far. See you in the winter!


	19. 117 Grail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I realize it's been a while since I posted anything to this fic. I haven't forgotten/abandoned it, I've been traveling for the last 6 months and so haven't been able to write notes from the episodes, etc. I have worked on chapters over the last few months, but not in any kind of order! Now I'm back and hoping to have the first season section finished fairly soon. :)
> 
> Also, there are some deliberate deviations from the episode in this chapter, with regards to lines and scenes.

_July 2258_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

As Ivanova granted permission to yet another transport to dock at the station, she had to resist the urge to scream. To say she was bored was a mild understatement; she was tempted to try and play tag with Kosh just to relieve the monotony, but decided that the paperwork should anything untoward happen to her was an evil she wouldn't wish on anyone, especially Sinclair.

Sinclair.

Ivanova expelled a breath noisily, causing several crew members to stare at her for a few seconds; none were braver to look for any longer.

Sinclair.

She had no idea what had happened between them. Just last week, throughout all the confusion over the disappearance of Bremner's body and the fate of young Alisa, Ivanova and Sinclair had been there for each other. They had been close, and Ivanova had enjoyed it. While having a drink with Talia after Alisa had left, she had seen Sinclair pass through the Zocalo, had sensed his loneliness and had wondered why he hadn't come over to join them. And later, when she tried to talk to him about it, he had forced a smile and passed it off as nothing important. Since then, other than the time they spent on duty together, she had not seen him at all, and his distance from her hurt. Ivanova tried to convince herself there was a good reason, but as hard as she tried, she couldn't think of what it could be.

Another hour spent mindlessly staring at her console and Ivanova had finally had enough. Pushing herself to her feet, straightening her uniform, and wearing an expression that made everyone melt from her path, Ivanova strode from the command deck in search of Sinclair.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair had decided against going to the mess hall as he wouldn't risk the chance of seeing Ivanova, but as he carried his plate through the Zocalo and his eyes fell upon Garibaldi at a table, he decided that perhaps his second-in-command was easier to deal with than his security chief. Sinclair sighed, weighing up his options as he stood in the middle of corridor, forcing people to step carefully around him. If he turned away now, he could perhaps hide from Garibaldi, but it was doubtful his presence had gone unnoticed, much like his treatment of Ivanova in the last week. He knew his behaviour had been bordering on despicable, but he couldn't seem to help himself. The lonely feeling that had settled over him after Alisa left refused to dispel, and he was avoiding those closest to him as he couldn't explain why he felt like that, and he knew they would want answers.

Sighing again, deciding to at least attempt to be human, Sinclair forced a grin as he sat opposite Garibaldi, who nodded in acknowledgement to him.

“They say food digests better if you chew it first,” he commented dryly, hoping the joke didn't sound too forced.

Garibaldi just brandished a fork at him. “Don't talk, I've seen you eat,” he replied. “Does the term doppler effect ring a bell?” He stuffed another mouthful of food in. “And don't try to deflect me, Jeff. It won't work. What's going on?”

Sinclair pushed his food around his plate without any interest in eating it. “Michael....”

Any further discussion was prevented by the arrival of Delenn and Lennier, and while Sinclair was initially glad about the interruption, the longer Delenn spoke, the more he found her imperious attitude irritating, and being ordered to change into his dress uniform to meet this distinguished guest he had no idea was arriving was almost too much for him. Garibaldi had slowed in his eating but not actually stopped, watching and listening to the exchange, but when he noticed the change in his friend, he subtly put his fork down and prepared himself to intervene. Sinclair hadn't been the same since Neroon's visit last week; Garibaldi could only imagine how the whole ordeal had affected his friend, but Sinclair was unwilling to talk about it, simply content to push everyone away. It didn't bother Garibaldi too much; he knew Sinclair would come to his senses eventually, with or without the security chief's help. But Ivanova.... That was more serious.

But there was something else going on, something between Sinclair and Delenn which only one of them seemed to be aware of. Then again, Garibaldi had experienced first hand, and recently, how good of a poker player Delenn was; Londo would do well to take lessons from her.

“So?” Garibaldi asked mildly after the Minbari had left.

Sinclair stood rigidly. “Apparently I have to go and greet a VIP.” He became aware of a painful sensation in his fingers and when he tried to flex them, he found he was clenching his fists so tightly his knuckles were white.

“That's not what I meant,” the security chief replied. “Jeff, whatever's eating you, you gotta talk about it. Doesn't have to be me, but talk to someone.”

“Why do I have the feeling you've said that to me before?” Sinclair muttered.

“Because I have, and if you listened to me, I wouldn't have to keep repeating myself,” Garibaldi retorted. “Seriously, something's bugging you and it's going to get to the point where it will annoy the rest of us too. Get it off your chest, if you can.”

Sinclair stared at his friend, knew he was right, and almost took him up on the offer. But when he opened his mouth, all that came out was, “It wouldn't hurt to have an honor guard there, if Delenn thinks this is someone special.”

Garibaldi held his gaze for a long moment before nodding. “Got it,” he said, forcing a smile. He crammed one last forkful of food into his mouth before standing and looking reluctantly at his lunch. “Want me to get Ivanova down here too?”

Sinclair shook his head. “She's on duty in C&C. We don't need the entire command staff just to greet one person. I'll meet you in the docking area in twenty,” he said firmly, striding off.

The security chief watched his friend go and rolled his eyes. “Oh boy.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Despite Sinclair's insistence that Ivanova did not need to be with them, he felt her presence keenly as they stood waiting for their 'guest' to appear. His mind drifted over his emotional state, compounded by Delenn's proximity, and he realised she was the root of all his current problems. She knew what happened to him at the Battle of the Line; she had known all this time and hidden it well, and that hurt him. And now, Sinclair realised, he was doing something similar to Ivanova and the admission to himself was like a punch in the gut. Lowering his head briefly, he decided he needed to talk to her as soon as possible, though how much he could and would explain remained to be seen.

“Commander, are you alright?” Delenn asked him quietly.

As Sinclair turned his head to look at her, Delenn found herself afraid of the fire in his eyes. “I'm fine. Thank you,” he replied curtly.

But when Aldous Gajic arrived, with his mission to find the Holy Grail, Sinclair found his melancholy evaporating somewhat. He didn't dare to look at Garibaldi, who he was certain was rolling his eyes; he was having trouble containing his own amusement as it was, though Delenn looked less than impressed with their conduct. And as he deftly passed handling Aldous to Garibaldi, who looked less than impressed with the turn of affairs, the first thing that crossed Sinclair's mind was that he had to tell Ivanova what was happening as he was curious as to what her reaction would be.

“Commander!”

Sinclair turned to look at Delenn but didn't slow his stride for her. “Ambassador?”

“Commander, I must ask – have I offended you in some way?”

He stopped dead in his tracks and looked at her, his expression unguarded. “Not exactly....”

A little shock showed on Delenn's face, but she knew it wasn't the time or place for such a conversation. “I am curious as to your reaction to Mr Gajic's mission. Do you object?”

“The grail is a myth on Earth,” Sinclair explained, ignoring the sudden change in conversation. “It isn't taken seriously by many people, and those who do take it seriously aren't taken seriously themselves.”

Delenn regarded him with a mysterious expression. “How sad. On Minbar, a seeker is treated with the utmost respect. It matters not if the object of his quest is real or not, what matters is that he strives for the perfection of his soul.”

“I wish him luck,” Sinclair admitted seriously. “He's probably the only true seeker we have.”

Delenn smiled at him. “Then perhaps you do not know yourself as well as you think.”

With that, she walked away, leaving Sinclair to stare thoughtfully after her. Was it possible she knew even more than he suspected? But what else could there be, he wondered. Closing his eyes, he pressed his fingers to his temples and tried to drown out his thoughts.

“Do not dwell on what is, what has been, and what will be. Listen instead to the song.”

Sinclair whirled on his heel in time to see Kosh retreating around the corner. “And how is that supposed to help?” he muttered while shaking his head, just as his link went off. “Sinclair.”

_“Can you come to med lab right away?”_ Franklin said, his tone serious. _“We have another mind wipe victim.”_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Med lab was perhaps the most illogical place where Sinclair could be, but considering the strange attacks which had been occurring in the last few days, Ivanova decided it was as good a bet as any to try there. Franklin's expression didn't show much in the way of surprise when she walked through the doors.

“Lieutenant Commander,” he greeted her.

“Doctor.” She looked passed him into the iso lab. “Another mind wipe victim?”

He nodded, sighing heavily. “And I have no idea what's causing it.”

Ivanova felt his frustration and laid her hand briefly on his arm. “I'm sure you'll figure it out soon, Stephen.”

Franklin nodded again, then looked at her. “I hope you don't mind me asking, but are you alright?”

“I...I have a lot on my mind right now,” she replied carefully.

The doctor was about to reply when Sinclair entered the med lab, his purposeful strides faltering when he saw Ivanova, who expression was closed off completely as she regarded the Commander, and Franklin was left with little doubt as to what – or who – exactly was on Ivanova's mind.

“Lieutenant Commander,” Sinclair said, nodding to her. “Doctor. What do we have?”

Franklin went on to explain in detail what had happened, aware that neither Sinclair nor Ivanova were really listening to him. They were too busy either waging a silent war or having a conversation without words. Either way, the doctor was glad when Garibaldi came in, but his comments about wanting to clear out Downbelow went over badly with everyone else. Franklin and Sinclair shared a look of agreement, that the 'lurkers' needed better treatment than they received or than Garibaldi was suggesting; Ivanova looked as though she could have spaced the security chief herself.

Garibaldi, however, felt unjustly outnumbered, and his dressing down by Sinclair left him feeling particularly chagrined. “So, who's the victim?” he asked quietly.

Franklin cast a glance at the iso lab. “Miriam Runningdeer.”

Garibaldi's entire posture and expression changed. “What? Dammit, she was supposed to testify today for me.”

“I see you feel differently when one of the 'lurkers' is useful to you,” Ivanova commented acidly. “Excuse me.”

Garibaldi's eyes widened almost comically as he watched her walk out, while Franklin looked thoughtful. Sinclair was unaware of everything else, except a deafening emptiness. “Find out what's causing this, Doctor,” he said, already in motion.

“I need a holiday,” the security chief muttered. Franklin just stared at him. “What?”

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe Commander Sinclair actually has a point?” he asked. “I understand that most of the people who commit crimes on this station are the ones from Downbelow, but did you ever stop to wonder why they were doing it?”

“Look, Doc, I get that it's hard for them. But it's not in my job description to feel sorry for them,” Garibaldi replied mildly. “It's my job to protect the inhabitants of Babylon 5, all of them.”

Franklin folded his arms. “And how exactly do you protect the inhabitants of Downbelow from exploitation, Mr Garibaldi?”

They stared at each other for a long moment, both defiant and unwavering in their opinions. “I have to go,” the security chief said eventually. “Let me know what you find, Doctor.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Ivanova!” Sinclair called when he was close enough to her that he didn't have to shout and draw too much attention to them.

Ivanova turned, swore at him – at least, he assumed that was what it was as it was in Russian – then carried on her way. Sinclair watched her, frozen in position, before coming to his senses and jogging after her. He took hold of her elbow to try and get her to slow down, but wasn't prepared for the force with which she jerked her arm out of his grasp.

“What exactly is it you want from me, _sir_?” she all but hissed at him.

Sinclair blinked in shock. “To apologise. And to explain...if I can...what I can. I....” He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “There are things about me you don't know, because I don't know them. And there are things I do know which I can't share, with anyone, because I feel it's too dangerous for anyone to know. I think it's dangerous that _I_ know. And sometimes...sometimes I want to share...I need to talk about things, I think, but I can't. I want answers, and I know they're out there, I just can't find them.”

“Well, that all made no sense whatsoever,” Ivanova said dryly. Then she reached for his hand, checking first that they were alone. “I understand, on some level, what you're getting at, but lately....”

“I know, I've pushed you away, and I'm sorry,” he replied, squeezing her hand. “It's just with that whole situation with Bremner's body last week...it was too much of a reminder of the war. I thought I was over it, I thought I'd moved on....” He shook his head. “Obviously not.”

Ivanova nodded, then studied him carefully from head to foot. “Commander, why are you in your dress uniform? Did I miss something?”

Sinclair grinned and laughed. “Not exactly. Do you have time now? I'll fill you in.”

“I'm on duty.”

“I'm the Commander.”

She smiled. “You win.”

“I need to change, though,” he said, plucking carefully at his dress uniform.

“I can make coffee while you're doing that,” Ivanova offered carefully.

Sinclair smiled back. “Done.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Garibaldi was stalking the corridors of the station in an extremely bad mood. Most of the time, he had no problem with serving under Sinclair, and being his friend as well; he usually didn't have a problem balancing the two. But sometimes, like today, he wondered how he ever could have thought it was a good idea.

“Mr Garibaldi.”

The security chief closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath. It wasn't that he didn't like Delenn's company; he just didn't want to be around anyone at that moment in time. But he put on his diplomatic face and smiled as he greeted her. “Ambassador. What can I do for you?”

Delenn, of course, wasn't fooled for an instant. “Do you also have a problem with Mr Gajic's search? Or is there something else keeping you preoccupied?”

“I've got no problem with anyone else's business as long as it doesn't endanger the station,” Garibaldi replied, then sighed. “I'm trying to get this guy, Deuce, locked up, but all my witnesses keep getting their brains mulched. I know he's behind it, I just can't prove it. And the Commander seems more interested in keeping Downbelow as it is than actually sorting out the problem....”

He had been gesturing while talking, which trailed off as his words did. “I confess, the idea of such an unequal society in such an intelligent race confused me,” Delenn said. “On Minbar, we would think it most rude to treat any citizen any differently than we ourselves would wish to be treated. As for Commander Sinclair...I feel he has a lot on his mind lately.”

There was a catch in her voice, something Garibaldi couldn't put his finger on but couldn't ignore. “I know, but sometimes, it's hard for him to be my friend and my commanding officer.”

“Do you not think it is equally difficult for him?”

The security chief pulled a face. “You're right, I know. Sometimes it just feels like I give him way too many chances.”

Delenn regarded him with a piercing look. “I could say 'and how many has he given you?' but instead I will say this – he is your friend. There should be no such thing as 'too many chances'.”

Garibaldi opened his mouth to reply as his link went off. “Never fails,” he muttered. “Garibaldi.”

_“Chief, I need to see you in my office as soon as you get the chance,”_ Sinclair said.

It was obvious to them both that something had happened, as Sinclair's tone of voice was much happier than it had been of late. “Be there in ten.” Garibaldi looked apologetically. “I have to go.”

“I understand. Do you feel better?” Delenn asked with a smile.

“You know, I actually do. But then, I usually do when I've spoken to you,” he said, smiling back. “But doesn't everyone?”

Garibaldi didn't see her reaction to his comment, couldn't have imagined she would have taken it negatively, but if he knew the things Delenn knew, he would have understood why suddenly she was the one in need of company.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova stopped in the corridor as her link went off, having just left Sinclair's quarters. “Ivanova.”

_“Could you come to med lab? I'm trying to research the cause of the mind wipes and I could use some help,”_ Franklin said, his tone deceptively mild.

“I'll be there in five.”

Franklin looked up precisely five minutes later to see Ivanova walk through the doors, her posture and expression completely different to when she had left not long ago. “Thanks for coming. I need some authorisations and an extra pair of hands, mainly.”

“I'm glad to help, Doctor, if it means we can figure out what's happening,” Ivanova replied with a smile.

“So, what changed in the last half an hour?” he asked not long after they started work.

Her mind immediately flew to the time spent with Sinclair, where he told her that he remembered some of what happened to him at the Battle of the Line, but couldn't tell her what as it was too dangerous. He spoke of his fears, and while she wanted to share, she found she still wasn't ready. But as to the doctor's question, she decided to play dumb. “What do you mean?”

“Lieutenant Commander, I thought you were going to tie Mr Garibaldi to life pod, on the outside, and eject him into the sun,” Franklin replied dryly.

Ivanova regarded him carefully. “Mr Garibaldi can be extremely insensitive sometimes. I understand he has to be hard in his line of work, but that doesn't mean he has to be inhuman.”

“Ivanova, are you actually promoting the showing of feelings?” Franklin asked in mock-surprise.

“In other people, yes. But I am Russian, Doctor. We don't allow ourselves such luxuries.”

Franklin laughed. “Well, I'm glad you're feeling a little less murderous.”

Ivanova smiled at him and laid a hand on his arm. “It's been a difficult road, Stephen, coming from Io to a position such as this. Most days there is no other place I would rather be, but some days....”

He nodded. “I know. You wonder why you're bothering at all.” He smiled ruefully. “It hasn't exactly been easy for me either. But you know, we both made it. We're still here.”

Ivanova glared at him. “Optimism. I hate it.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Commander,” Garibaldi said as he entered the office. “Everything okay?”

Sinclair was leaning against his desk, arms folded. “Better now. Look, Mike, I'm sorry I snapped at you before. I don't know why things feel so difficult at the moment, but they do. But that's no reason to take it out on you.”

Garibaldi shrugged. “Hey, don't worry about it. I went off a little as well. It happens. We're good.”

Sinclair smiled. “You're a good friend, Michael. In case I haven't said so recently...thank you.”

“Ditto,” he replied with a grin. “So, how is Miriam Runningdeer?”

“Like a child. She won't be making an appearance in court any time soon, if that's what you're asking,” Sinclair said. “You need to find another witness.”

Garibaldi started pacing. “I've got about as much chance of that now as I have of seeing a Vorlon do a strip tease.”

The Commander's reply was cut off by Franklin and Ivanova entering the office, their expressions sombre. “I think we've found what's causing the mind wipes....”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“And Londo just gave it to you without any arguments?” Ivanova asked incredulously. “While leaving his credits in the casino?”

Garibaldi shook his head. “I can't believe he'd give up information like that so easily.”

Sinclair chuckled. “He couldn't do it fast enough, and he's locked himself in his room for the duration.” He glanced at Ivanova. “And who says there were any credits left? This is Londo, after all.”

They both laughed but Garibaldi looked concerned. “Do we need to issue a general alert for this feeder?”

Franklin interrupted any reply, confirming what they had begun to suspect. Sinclair issued detailed orders to Ivanova, who just nodded and went about her business; if something as dangerous as that was loose on the station, they needed to know who to blame for bringing it in. Garibaldi decided it was time to find Jinxo; instinct told him the little thief knew more than he was letting on.

“One man's lunatic is another's true seeker,” Sinclair said wisely after Garibaldi asked him if he thought Aldous was genuine.

The security chief rolled his eyes. “You've been hanging out with Delenn too much.”

Sinclair just smiled, but there was something more serious underlying the expression. For a moment Garibaldi was tempted to ask, but he remembered how bristly his friend became when questioned like that and so he simply nodded.

“I'll let you know if I find anything.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“I swear I didn't do that on purpose,” Ivanova said to Sinclair a short while later.

He looked at her amused, then bent to retrieve the pad which had barely missed his head as he walked onto the command deck. “I take it the search isn't going well?” he asked.

“That would be an understatement.”

There was something about her tone, a measure of stress he hadn't felt from her many times before, that made him made a snap decision. “I want everyone to take ten minutes. Go and get some coffee,” Sinclair ordered.

Ivanova tried to hide her surprise, at least until everyone had left. “Sir? Is something...?” Her questioning was cut off by him wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to him.

“It'll be alright, Susan. We'll get through this. We have to,” he added in a whisper.

Not for the first time, she wondered if he was talking about the current crisis or something deeper, but whatever his reasons, it didn't matter. He was holding her and as she suspected was the plan, her stress began to ebb away.

“Suddenly spending your life searching for the holy grail doesn't seem so idiotic,” she murmured into his chest.

“I don't think so,” Sinclair replied seriously. “So, any luck finding out how that feeder go onto the station?”

“Eighty nine ships passed through that sector on the way here. If I eliminate all those with spotless records and no transfer of cargo, that still leaves me with twenty four possibilities.”

Sinclair rubbed Ivanova's back soothingly as he heard her voice break with stress. “I suppose the most important thing is to find the feeder, and maybe we let Londo worry about how it go here.”

_“Garibaldi to Sinclair.”_

He moved his link to his face but didn't let go of Ivanova. “Sinclair here.”

_“Commander, we've got another problem. Someone's snatched Ombudsman Wellington, could well be one of Deuce's men. Looks like he put up a hell of a fight.”_

“The feeder.”

_“My thoughts exactly. We're searching for him right now.”_

Ivanova had pulled back enough to look at Sinclair while he was talking. “I'm on my way,” he said, cutting the link off.

They stared at each other for longer than was necessary. She wanted to tell him to be careful, wanted to remind him of his promise not to do anything stupid or put himself in harm's way unnecessarily. He wanted to promise he would be careful, wanted to say he wasn't going to try and be a hero; he didn't want to lie. Laying his hands on her shoulders, he squeezed once before striding off the command deck without a backward glance.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

It hadn't ended at all how Sinclair had planned. He never wanted to see Aldous killed, never wanted Deuce to succumb to the same fate either. What had started off as something mildly amusing had turned into something much more serious.

“Ambassador Kosh, Commander Sinclair.”

The door to the Vorlon's quarters opened immediately and the Commander stepped through without hesitation. While he respected Kosh as he would any other sentient being, he didn't fear him as some did, or hold him in awe like others. To Sinclair, he was just another ambassador, and sometimes his ambivalence towards the Vorlon amused and scared him.

“I trust you have been kept up to date on the recent events?”

“Yes.”

“We apprehended the criminals and confiscated the fake encounter suit. It was an excellent replica,” Sinclair said, in a tone that clearly indicated he wanted to know how someone like Deuce could pull something like that.

“Why?”

It took him a moment to understand what Kosh was trying to get at. “Power. He wanted people to believe he could control a Vorlon, and they believed him. After all, no one knows what you look like. That makes some people....a little nervous.” But not him. It was like he already knew what the big secret was.

Kosh stared at him for a long moment. “Good,” he replied eventually.

Sinclair resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Ambassador.” He turned to leave.

“Shake the leaves from the tree. Do not simply wait for them to fall.”

The Commander's stride faltered but he didn't stop. Didn't look at Kosh, as he knew nothing else would be said. Instead, he simply left the alien wing and headed towards the docking area, the Vorlon's cryptic words rolling around his head. He could feel his mood bouncing between his normal mild-mannered, fairly cheerful self, and a dark, melancholy stranger. He didn't understand any of it, and wasn't sure there was another person on the station who could explain it to him either. But there was at least one person who could help. And as if by a miracle, she was suddenly right before him.

“Commander.”

“Lieutenant Commander. Is there a problem?”

Ivanova shook her head. “I wanted pay my respects to Aldous, but it seems I'll miss him as I have to be on the command deck in five minutes. And I know you could order me to stay,” she added quickly, “But really, how will that start to look to people?”

Sinclair nodded. “I know. But at least you're here now.”

“How did Ambassador Kosh react?”

He rolled his eyes. “As he always does; cryptically.”

Ivanova stepped closer, invading Sinclair's personal space. “And I wanted to see how you were.”

“I thought you were here to tell me off for putting myself in unnecessary danger,” he said with a slight smile.

“I would have done the same if I had been there.” Her smile was rueful. “I just wish I had been there.”

Sinclair wanted to tell her that she had been, that she was always wherever he was in, in his heart, mind and soul. “Next time,” he said, only half-joking.

“I'll remind you of that next time we have a crisis,” Ivanova replied, then pulled a face. “I have to go. Afterwards, if you a coffee or to talk....”

“I know where to find you.”

Ivanova stared at him for a moment, committing details of his face to her memory, then nodded curtly. “Commander.”

“Lieutenant Commander.”

He waited until she was out of sight before entering the docking area and starting to pace. He tried to look forward to seeing Ivanova off duty later, but the joy he would normally feel at such a thing seemed to have disappeared. And Kosh's sudden interest in his life again was nagging at him.

_“Shake the leaves from the tree. Do not simply wait for them to fall.”_

Sinclair knew what he wanted those words to mean; seize the day, grab the moment, don't just wait for things to happen. If he wanted to know something, then he should go and ask the questions to which he wanted answers. And while he did want to talk to Ivanova, there was someone else he wanted a conversation with first.

And again, as if by a miracle, she appeared. He didn't see her in the doorway; instead he sensed her presence and turned slowly. “I'm surprised to see you here.”

“You shouldn't be. After all, I am not surprised to see you here,” Delenn replied with a smile.

Sinclair did not like smiling. Instead, he was searching for the right way to broach a difficult subject, one that could potentially get them both killed. “It's a hard thing to spend your life searching for something and never find it.”

Though she didn't show it, Delenn felt herself gasping in surprise. He knew. How much was unclear, but it was obviously more than she suspected. But she also knew this had to be handled with the utmost delicacy, for both their sakes. “Are you speaking of Aldous...or someone else?”

Their eyes locked. She knew he knew; he knew he wasn't wrong in what he remembered. They were silent longer than they should have been, both weighing up how much to reveal to the other, and when he finally opened his mouth to speak, Sinclair lied.

“Aldous.”

He turned before he had finished speaking that single word, disgusted with himself for backing down. He had never been a coward in his; why was he starting to retreat and yield so much now? Delenn could sense his negativity, and searched her own mind for the words to help him.

“You are wrong, Commander. He found what he was looking for, what we are all looking for. A reason.”

Sinclair turned, his expression so anguished it almost broke her heart. “For what?” he asked, his tone soft and sad.

Delenn longed to sooth his pain. “Everything, Commander. Everything.”

“And what if there are questions that need to be asked in order to find that...reason?”

“Questions left unanswered are better than those left unasked.”

“Even if they could get you killed?”

It wasn't supposed to go that way; he was never supposed to voice that concern, but he could see from the expression on Delenn's face that he was right. The Minbari were trying to protect a secret and would kill him in order to do so.

Garibaldi's appearance, with Aldous' body, had never been such a welcome distraction, and the security chief was so preoccupied with his task that he didn't realise the atmosphere he had walked into, or the discussion he had interrupted.

“Treat it gently, boys. Treat it gently,” he said to his officers, who nodded and wheeled Aldous' body carefully onto the transport.

Sinclair regarded his old friend, wondering how someone could be so thoughtful over some things and so cold over others. They both stood in silence until Jinxo had passed them as well, then Garibaldi sighed and put his hands in his pockets.

“I suppose I should go and tell Londo it's safe to come out now.”

Sinclair smiled. “You could always leave him where he is.”

“The station is a lot quieter,” Garibaldi replied. “Commander.”

“Chief.” It was only when he turned around that he realised Delenn had already slipped away. It seemed their conversation was over, for today at least.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair stood on the command deck watching Jinxo's ship heading towards the jumpgate, his sense of melancholy back and stronger than before. Aldous' quest had actually struck a chord within him, whether he was willing to admit it or not. At the very least, he could understand it in the deepest part of his being. Aldous had been searching for something, and he, Sinclair, was doing the same thing, but instead of an object, he was searching for the truth. The truth about his past, the truth about himself; Delenn had called him a true seeker, and perhaps he was. And perhaps, he realised with a start, their conversation wasn't over at all. Perhaps Kosh was right after all; perhaps it was time for him to shake the leaves from the tree instead of waiting for them to fall. To chase the answers he wanted instead of waiting for them to fall in his lap.

“There he goes,” Garibaldi noted dryly, though there was a note of panic in his voice.

Sinclair just nodded. “There he goes,” he repeated tonelessly as they watched Jinxo's ship disappear through the jumpgate.

Garibaldi raised his eyebrows and looked around. “No boom,” he stated.

“No boom _today_ ,” Ivanova corrected him without turning, forcing a note of levity into her voice. She could sense the Commander's despair and it worried her as it seemed groundless. “Boom tomorrow. There's _always_ a boom tomorrow.”

In his heart, Sinclair knew that although she was only joking, she was also right. Garibaldi just rolled his eyes and turned to his friend to motion a speedy exit only to find the Commander was already striding from the deck. Hurrying to catch up, the last thing Garibaldi heard was Ivanova muttering, “Someone has to keep some damned perspective around here!”

“Hey, Jeff, wait up!”

Sinclair didn't even slow in his stride. “No.”

That one word was both an order and a plea to be left alone, and Garibaldi all but skidded to a halt, frowning. Lately he couldn't figure his friend out and it worried him. He wanted to ask Ivanova about it, but knew he would get no answers from her. Questioning the man himself was a dead end. And so Garibaldi found himself with only one option, one he wasn't used to taking; leaving the situation alone.

Sinclair knew Garibaldi was concerned, but couldn't give him any reassurances that he was okay. Instead, he put all his focus into steeling himself to finish the discussion he had started in the docking area.

“Yes?” a voice replied him as he pressed the chimes to Delenn's quarters.

“Commander Sinclair.”

The door opened and Delenn greeted him with a smile. “Commander. Is there a problem?”

“Not as such. I just wanted to talk to you, unless you're busy?”

“Not at all. Please.” She gestured to a comfy seat, but he perched himself on a stool. Without her expression changing, Delenn followed his lead. “What did you wish to discuss?”

“I was wondering how Alisa was doing,” he said, deciding it would be a good place to start. He was interested in her well being, but he also felt things would go smoother if he didn't jump into the serious stuff straight away.

Delenn knew that was not the reason for his visit, although his concern was genuine, and so she played along. “It is...difficult for her, I think. Certainly is it different than what she is used to. But she is making an effort, and I think she will settle in quite well.”

“Good.”

“An old friend once told me that half a truth is the worst kind of lie,” Delenn said after a long silence. “Why are you here, Commander?”

“Before, in the docking area, what we were talking about...it was a conversation left unfinished. I want answers, Delenn. I want to know....” Sinclair trailed off. Something had been bothering him ever since he found out he had been captured and tortured by the Minbari, and that Delenn had been present. Those actions, the war, didn't track with the person before him, and he wondered if she had been against the whole thing, wondered if she was keeping the truth from him for a damned good reason...he wondered if she would be in personal danger if she ever told him.

For Delenn, it did not matter what words followed; she had known this moment would come, was actually surprised it had not arrived sooner. And she longed to tell him what he wanted to know, but couldn't. Yet she could not lie to him any longer. Without waiting for him to continue, she took a deep breath. “Soon, perhaps. I cannot make any promises at this moment, but I think some of the answers you seek will come to you soon.”

Sinclair accepted the effort she was making and inclined his head. “Thank you.”

“Was there anything else?”

“How are relationships between warriors viewed on Minbar?”

It was a random question, completely out of the blue, yet to Delenn it made perfect sense, and she smiled. “Relationships within the castes as perfectly acceptable, but relationships between the castes were forbidden for many hundreds of years. That is not the way now, however. We believe that the soul chooses its mate, and that nothing can stand in the way of that connection.”

He wanted to believe that was true of any race, wanted to believe it so badly that his heart ached. If it was true, it would give him the hope he felt he desperately needed, the hope to carry on and see the future through, doing what he knew he must. But most of all he wanted to share everything with someone, a specific someone, and couldn't. Not yet, maybe never, and it pained him like he had never felt before.

Aware on some level that Delenn could sense what he was thinking and feeling, Sinclair forced a smile. “It's getting late. Thank you for your time, Ambassador.”

She inclined her head. “Any time, Commander.”

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not one of my best chapters, but then again, it is Grail.... Hopefully it was passable. ;)


	20. 118 Signs and Portents

_August 2258_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Susan.”

Ivanova groaned in her sleep but didn't wake.

“Susan.”

She frowned, but kept her eyes closed.

_“Susan.”_

Wearily, reluctantly, she responded. “Yes?”

“You have forgotten me.”

“No, no I haven't,” she said.

“Yes, you have.”

Ivanova pushed herself up on one elbow and tucked her hair behind her ear. “No, I haven't. See?” She pointed to the naked ear. “I could never forget you, Ganya.”

Her brother smiled, but sadly. “You have forgotten us all. Duty can only come first for so long, Susan. It cannot come first in all things.”

“You cannot run from the past.”

A tear rolled down Ivanova's cheek. “I'm not, Mama.”

Sophie also smiled sadly. “Yes, you are. You run from the past and from your future. You must embrace both to be whole.”

Ivanova was about to protest that she didn't know what her mother was talking about, but her voice failed her. And then she sensed a third presence. “I am disappointed in you, Susan,” her father said quietly.

“But...when we last spoke, you apologised....”

“You didn't attend my funeral. You have not sat shiva. That is disrespectful to me, and to your heritage. Your uniform, your career, this station, means so much to you, yes?”

Tears streamed openly down Ivanova's face. “Yes,” she replied honestly.

Her father's stare was cold. “Then embrace that and forget about us. You do not deserve us....”

An insistent beeping interrupted, and while the computer cheerfully told her it was 0430 and that she had no new messages, Ivanova pulled the pillow over her head and willed herself to stop crying. It was only a dream, a stupid dream, nothing more. But it had felt so real, yet confusingly contrasting, as though there were two sides warring; in a way, she supposed that was true. Because as much as she had rationalised to herself that it wasn't possible for her to return to Earth for her father's funeral, or to sit shiva, she knew it was a lie. If she had really wanted to, she could have made the time, could have asked for the time. But she was afraid. Of what, precisely, she wasn't sure. Perhaps it was the stark realisation that she was finally alone, without family of any kind.

“Why does my mouth taste like old carpet in the morning?” Ivanova muttered in an attempt to distract her own mind.

“Unknown. Checking medical records,” the computer replied.

Ivanova groaned and pulled the covers over her head. A somewhat sentient computer was helpful at times, and a damned hindrance at others. As she lay there, the temptation to stay there was overwhelming, but she knew if she did, whilst also steadfastly ignoring any calls and messages, someone would eventually come looking for her. If it was Garibaldi, she would never hear the end of it. But if it was Sinclair...the urge to stay in bed was even greater.

Despite his melancholy from the previous month, the past couple of weeks had seen him return more to his old self, and with that came the closeness to Ivanova that she had come to enjoy and rely on. She longed to tell him of her family and of her nightmares, but here never seemed to be the right time. Perhaps she should stay in bed after all; then when he came looking for her, she could explain everything to him....

A check of the time with the computer told Ivanova she had dallied long enough, and reluctantly she threw back the covers and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. A short time later and she was walking onto the command deck, absently rubbing the back of her neck.

Sinclair was already in motion when he saw Ivanova appear and he automatically smiled, but when he saw her trying to loosen some muscles, and the dark circles under her eyes, he started to worry. But rather than draw attention to how she was feeling, he tried to remain cheerful. “Morning, Lieutenant Commander.”

Despite her earlier feelings, now she was in his presence, Ivanova found that she couldn't look at Sinclair, for some strange reason. “Commander,” she replied tonelessly.

Sinclair stopped. “Sleep well?” he asked mildly, though her behaviour was concerning him.

Ivanova forced herself to a halt and turned to face him. And despite the expression on his face, the obvious care he had for her well being, she couldn't bring herself to tell him anything, couldn't ask him for five minutes of his times. Instead, she just said, “Sleeping isn't the problem. Waking up, that is the problem. I've always had a hard time getting up when it's dark outside.”

He knew that wasn't the whole of the problem, knew that wasn't what was bothering her, but it was obvious she didn't want to talk about it. “But in space it's always dark,” he replied, frowning a little.

“I know. I know,” Ivanova said, turning once more just as a beeping noise resounded around the command deck.

A short time and one dead StarFury pilot later, Sinclair was stood at Ivanova's elbow as they both tried to make sense of what had just happened. “Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

“It's always hard when we lose them.”

“That's not what I meant.”

Ivanova risked a glance at Sinclair and wished she hadn't. His face seemed so close, his eyes so dark she could easily lose herself in them, and it took every ounce of her self-restraint to not kiss him. “I...I didn't sleep well,” she managed to say. “But I can't talk about it. Not yet. Maybe...one day....”

Sinclair nodded in understanding. “You know where to find me. Any time.” There was particular emphasis on the last two words and Ivanova smiled.

“Thank you.” She tore her gaze away from him and looked out of the view port. “Now what?”

“I have a few things to take care of, then we need a meeting. The Raiders are getting bolder and I don't like it. We need to work out how to stop them.”

“Should I scramble Delta flight for search and rescue?” Ivanova asked.

Sinclair nodded. “You never know what they might find.” He started to walk away. “Let me know if they do find anything important.”

She nodded back. “Will do.” Then she remembered something and called over her shoulder. “Oh, Lieutenant Keffer's ship is due to arrive soon. Do you want me to meet him?”

Sinclair paused, then smiled. “Sure.”

Ivanova heard the silent 'thank you' and nodded again. “Anything else?”

He smirked briefly. “Give him hell.”

“Gladly.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

It didn't take Morden long to locate everyone he needed to talk to, although he was surprised to see the Minbari ambassador on his list. He would have thought with the Minbari...persuasion is certain areas, his allies would have not bothered, but obviously they felt that it was possible to sway them still. A little time spent observing each of them would tell him quickly which one would be suitable to his allies' needs, and he set about his task with precision and effortless.

But something distracted him, a rare occurrence for Morden as he was usually exceptionally focused. A man in a blue Earthforce uniform, who carried himself in a self-assured way, with the balance of a warrior, but also with an easy manner. Even from a distance, Morden could see why Sinclair was a concern to his allies. The man was shrouded in mystery, but there was also something else there, something no one else could see; a mark, left by another race, perhaps even two. They had shaped Sinclair, made him, and Morden knew how that felt, but that didn't mean there was any sort of kinship between them. And while Morden had jobs to do while onboard the station, gathering information on Sinclair was not one of them, at least not yet. But he had read the signals from his allies; they wanted to know about this officer, and he knew exactly what kind of facts they were after. Even from a distance, Morden could tell certain things; he could see that Sinclair would be a difficult man to manipulate, which was the end goal for him and his allies. He was used to getting a rise out of people quite easily, was used to being able to upset the internal balance of anyone he wanted to, and he wondered what Sinclair's buttons were. There was the station, of course, but there had to be something else, something more personal. There was Catherine Sakai, but Morden was well aware she hadn't set foot on Babylon 5 for some months now, and his information was that she wouldn't be doing so any time soon either. Then there was the war, but he couldn't see how he could use that to his advantage. Morden watched Sinclair for a while longer, noting how the man moved, how he interacted with people, but he could find no crack in the Commander's armour, and it was starting to unnerve him.

Ivanova hadn't known Sinclair was in the Zocalo when she started to walk through, hadn't intentionally sought him out, but it seemed that no matter what her conscious thought, her subconscious had different ideas. And she was about to approach him when she felt...something. Stopping and stepping off to one side, Ivanova closed her eyes briefly, took a deep breath, and then scanned the area. First pass didn't reveal much, but with a second, slower sweep, Ivanova noticed a man at the bar. He looked just like any other person travelling through - average height and build, jet black hair - but there was something about him that made her fix on him. Then she realised he was watching Sinclair. Studying him carefully, it looked like, and Ivanova frowned, worry gripping her heart. The last time people had taken such an interest in him were the Knights and that had almost ended very badly for them all. And this seemed...different, somehow. Ivanova couldn't put her finger on it, but she didn't like it one little bit. Turning on her heel, she decided it was time to pay Garibaldi a visit.

Counting to ten, Morden slowly turned his head, in time to see a figure with long hair in a blue Earthforce uniform walking away, and he began to smile. No one could watch him without being observed in return, and knew without a doubt that he had just found the weak spot in Sinclair's armour.

Next on his list was the Centauri ambassador.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Garibaldi!”

The security chief turned, surprised. “Lieutenant Commander. Problem?” There was a distinct note of stress in her voice he hadn't failed to notice.

She slowed as she neared him. “Not exactly. This is going to sound strange....”

He smiled easily. “What around here isn't?”

Ivanova nodded and they started to walk slowly. “There was a guy in the Zocalo who seemed to be paying particularly close attention to Commander Sinclair. I couldn't put my finger on it, but there's something about him.”

“Instinct, Ivanova?” Garibaldi asked.

“It's probably nothing.”

Garibaldi held his hands up. “Hey, half my job is done on instinct, and if you think this guy isn't on the level, I believe you.”

“I don't know about on the level, Garibaldi, but he seems....”

“Shady?”

“I was going to say 'dark'.”

Garibaldi raised his eyebrows. “Really? Okay, what does he look like?”

Ivanova told him, and then told him where she had seen Morden last. Then her link beeped. “Yes?”

_“Lieutenant Commander, the new pilot's ship is docking.”_

“Thank you.”

Garibaldi looked at her. “New pilot?”

“Zeta squadron is getting a new Lieutenant,” Ivanova explained.

“That's right,” he said, realisation dawning. What's the pilot's name?”

“Keffer.”

“You don't sound impressed.”

“His flight record is outstanding.”

“But?”

Ivanova smiled. “Why does there have to be a 'but'?”

Garibaldi just looked at her. “Because I know you. Of course there was a 'but' there.”

“Alright. But he seems a little too cocky for my tastes.”

The Chief grinned. “Have him run drills with the Commander for a couple of weeks, with you and me on the opposing squadrons. Then see how cocky he is,” he said, winking.

“Mr Garibaldi, you are truly an evil man,” Ivanova replied, mock-sternly. “I like it.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Once Keffer had been shown the Cobra bays and his quarters, Ivanova headed back up to C&C to see what the rescue team had discovered from the Raider attack, but her mind was far from focussed on the situation. For some reason, she felt greatly distracted, the dreams from that morning refusing to leave her alone, and there was an irrational, unfounded belief that it was all Sinclair's fault. A part of her was screaming how crazy she was, asking her what this 'all' was; the only thing logically that was Sinclair's fault was how happy Ivanova felt, and how comfortable she was on the station. But then she doubted herself; was she happy? The small part of her that was intent on being reasonable – and sounded just like her mother – told her that she was being idiotic. The rest of her didn't listen. After all, her brother and father in her dream had been right; duty first, duty always, so what right did she have to be happy?

_“Sinclair to Ivanova.”_

“Yes, sir?” she replied, tapping her link.

Sinclair paused, surprised by her formal tone, and immediately he started to worry. _“Meeting in my office in ten. We need to figure out what the Raiders' plan is before they can cause any more damage.”_

Ivanova almost snapped at him, but caught herself at the last minute. Who was he to be ordering her about so imperiously? The small part of her told her he was her commanding officer and it was his job to give orders. The rest of her decided it was fine for Sinclair to give orders when it suited him, and treat her like an equal at other times, leaving her never knowing what was going on. The small part of her scoffed at the idea and figuratively rolled its eyes. The rest of her suddenly came to a stark realisation; Sinclair's inappropriate advances towards her could well end up damaging her career, a career she had sacrificed everything for, and she couldn't allow that. The small part of her almost packed its bags and left at the nonsense the rest of her was thinking; would have done if such a thing had been possible.

Realising she had been silent for far too long while she had an inner dialogue with herself, Ivanova quickly replied. “Yes, sir, I'll be there.” And preventing further chat, she cut the link.

Sinclair was left in the transport tube staring into space. He knew Ivanova was having trouble, but he hadn't realised it was so serious. Entering his office before the others, he made sure there was fresh coffee, and removed his jacket before sitting down in the comfy chair, instead of behind his desk. If Ivanova arrived early, and he hoped she would, it would give them a chance to talk; if he made the situation more relaxed, there was a greater chance of her opening up to him.

Yet when she walked in precisely on time, he saw there was no chance of that happening. In fact, the woman before him was almost like a stranger, and he was shocked at how distant she had become in just a few short hours. Ivanova noted Sinclair's posture and the way he had arranged everything, and instead of being grateful like she felt she should be, it angered her, making her feel like he was tempting her. Sinclair thought he could see the problem, yet when he opened his mouth to say something, he found nothing would come out.

“Commander,” Ivanova said curtly.

“Lieutenant Commander,” he replied in the same tone.

Garibaldi noticed the atmosphere as soon as he walked into the room and was tempted to walk straight back out again, but didn't. Sinclair and Ivanova had suffered disagreements before but this was different, yet it made no sense to him. Hadn't Ivanova been concerned for Sinclair's safety earlier? Yet now she looked as though she could happily shove him out of the nearest airlock without blinking. Garibaldi mentally shook his head. Whatever had gone on, he vowed not to get involved; he knew it would sort itself out in time and if it didn't, he would just lock them both in the brig until it was fixed.

“Commander, Lieutenant Commander,” he greeted them, all business, sprawling deliberately on the end of the sofa, making Ivanova take the seat nearest to Sinclair. “Sorry I'm late.”

Sinclair smiled at him. “No problem, Chief. Everything okay?”

“Surprisingly, yes. Except for one guy.”

“Who?” the Commander asked.

Garibaldi looked at Ivanova and then back at his friend, making an educated guess before responding. “Showed up on the station earlier today. Name of Morden. Seems he's been out of circulation for a while.”

“And that's suspicious because...?” Ivanova asked, curious as to what Garibaldi had turned up, but not wanting to draw attention to the fact that she had spied him observing Sinclair, especially now she couldn't think for the life of her why it had been so important to tell the security chief about some guy.

“Well, it isn't. But this guy has meetings lined up with all the ambassadors of the major races over the next day or two,” Garibaldi replied. “None of the minor leagues, just the big boys. Except for Ambassador Kosh.”

Sinclair raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

Garibaldi nodded. “From what I can gather, he's actually gone out of his way to avoid him.”

“A wise decision,” Ivanova murmured dryly.

“Maybe, but when someone avoids a Vorlon, I want to know why.”

“So do I,” Sinclair said thoughtfully.

Ivanova looked at him, yet he found her expression was closed off to him, something he hadn't experienced before, and he found he didn't like it. “Has he asked for a meeting with you, Commander?”

Sinclair shook his head. “No, he hasn't, though that isn't unusual.” He stared off into space briefly. “See what you can find out, Michael, but tread carefully.”

“Always do.”

“How is Lieutenant Keffer settling in?” the Commander asked Ivanova.

“Well, it seems. The rest of Zeta squadron seem to like him, and Commander Galus is particularly impressed.”

Sinclair studied her expression. “You don't like him.”

“Whether I like him or not is immaterial, Commander,” Ivanova replied, more sharply that she intended. “He seems competent enough and that's all that matters.”

Garibaldi fought the urge to raise his eyebrows and go, “Woah, Ivanova!” Instead, he risked a glance at Sinclair, who was smiling but in a brittle way. “What's the news on the latest Raider attack?” he asked.

“By the time search and rescue got there, there wasn't much left,” Ivanova replied, pouring herself coffee. “And no clue as to how the Raiders are getting in and out so fast. In the last attack, they were gone in two hours, even though it takes four to get to the nearest jumpgate for a ship that size.”

Sinclair looked at Garibaldi. “Security analysis.”

For a few moments, the security chief and Ivanova discussed the Raider problem, while Sinclair occupied his thoughts with the problem of his second-in-command, only half listening to what was being said. He felt like he was carrying the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders, and he didn't like the sense of defeat that was creeping into his soul. He felt it ridiculous when they weren't even at war, but he couldn't shake it.

“Recommend we put Delta wing on alert,” Garibaldi was saying, bringing Sinclair back to the moment.

He nodded. “Lieutenant Commander, you'll take first tactical watch. Make sure they're prepped and ready to go at a moment's notice.”

Ivanova was surprised, but didn't show it. And where she would normally have been glad at being given flying duty, she found herself thinking it was just another way for Sinclair to seduce her by making her grateful to him. The small part of her that was maintaining its rationality screamed at that point.

“Also recommend putting together a list of all incoming ships over the next few weeks, see who's carrying valuable cargo and who the raiders are likely to hit,” she said in a brisk tone.

“Agreed,” Sinclair replied, then his expression softened towards her. “See to it?” He asked, almost pleaded, but didn't order. He hoped Ivanova would see what her attitude was doing to him; he hoped they could repair the problem, whatever it was, before it was too late. But she just nodded, her expression as closed to him as it was when she first entered his office. “That's all.” His tone was weary, his expression grim.

Garibaldi and Ivanova stood at the same time, but as she seemed in a rush to leave, the security chief took a step back and let her pass. She nodded to him and strode from the room without a single glance at Sinclair. Garibaldi watched her go, trying to process what was going on, and he was so lost in thought that he jumped a little when he felt Sinclair's presence beside him.

“Mr Garibaldi, a moment of your time?” His tone was soft, heartbroken, and the security chief just nodded. “Not long ago something happened. I've been keeping it to myself but the truth is...I need some help. Mostly I need a friend.”

Garibaldi took a moment to gather himself as the conversation wasn't going in the direction he had thought it would at all. He had thought Sinclair wanted to talk about Ivanova, but this...this was something else. “You've got both. What's the deal?”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“This blows,” Keffer grumbled into his glass. “First day and a bit of action, and Zeta squadron is benched.”

“There'll be plenty of time for you get out there,” Galus told him with a smile.

Keffer looked at him. “You think so? I don't.”

“What do you mean?”

“I get the feeling Lieutenant Commander Ivanova doesn't like me.”

Galus laughed. “Everybody has that opinion, but don't worry. Even if that's the case, Ivanova is still fair. You're a good pilot and that's all that matters.”

“Still, I notice it's her who gets to lead the squad,” Keffer groused.

“She's a good pilot.”

“And Sinclair?”

Galus frowned, not sure where the conversation was heading. “He's one of the best pilots I've ever seen. He's also a damned good commanding officer.”

“I know. I meant him and Ivanova. What's the deal?” Keffer asked.

“He's her commanding officer, she's his second-in-command, that's it,” Galus said firmly. “And anyone who says otherwise is looking to get transferred to a very distant outpost.”

Keffer chewed that over for a moment before going back to staring morosely into his glass. “This blows.”

Galus laughed. “Yes, you've said that once already!”

From his place hidden at the other side of the bar, Garibaldi eased himself into the crowd. How long had Keffer been on the station? And already he had picked up on the undertone between Sinclair and Ivanova, which meant he was either extremely perceptive, or people somewhere had been talking. Either way, he didn't like it. Coupled with what Sinclair had just told him about the Battle of the Line, Garibaldi couldn't help but feel that the year so far had actually been relatively easy compared to the ones ahead of them. Scowling to himself, the security chief strode ahead, thoroughly distracted, and it was only when he reached his office that he realised how he had ended up overhearing the conversation between Keffer and Galus. He had been heading to the Cobra bays in the hopes of catching Ivanova before she become too engrossed in her duties, had been hoping to catch her unaware so they could talk openly. Garibaldi swore. While he knew whatever was going between Ivanova and Sinclair was none of his business, and both would likely tell him that to his face, he couldn't help but want to fix it. But now it would have to wait. Turning to his console, Garibaldi decided to make a start on investigating Sinclair's story.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair sat in his office, attempting to work through the stack of papers on his desk and only partly succeeding. His mind was in turmoil over so many different things, running along similar lines to Garibaldi's thoughts, though neither of them could know that: he couldn't shake the knowledge that Delenn was one of the Grey Council and had helped to torture him; he couldn't help but think that despite the difficult year they had endured, the worst was yet to come; he couldn't help but think about Babylon 4 and what he had seen; he couldn't help but think about Ivanova and what was happening between them. And so when his link beeped, disturbing his reverie, he was actually glad. “Sinclair.”

_“Commander, you have a personal communication from Earth,”_ the technician said.

“Put it through,” he ordered, turning his chair towards the view screen.

_“Hello, Jeff.”_

“Catherine.”

She was the last person he expected to hear from, especially after so long, and with a guilty twinge, he realised he hadn't even thought about her in a couple of months. When she left so abruptly, without any word or warning at all, Sinclair had simply assumed it was all over and just put her from his mind, and it had been surprisingly easy. But now he wondered if he had assumed wrong; after all, there was no other reason at all for her to be contacting him.

_“How have you been?”_ she asked, more out of politeness, he thought, than any real interest, though she was so closed off from him, he couldn't tell, and in that moment, he realised just how far apart they had grown. And it didn't bother him really; in fact, it felt more right than whenever they had been together.

But the familiarity of the situation made Sinclair want to fall back into the same patterns he and Catherine always did, thought he knew now it would only make him a traitor to his own heart. So instead, he just smiled and moved the conversation right along. “Busy as always, as I guess you have been as I haven't heard anything from you for a while.”

Catherine stared at him. _“You're laying all of this at my feet?”_ she asked, any hope of reconciliation, however small, completely torn to shreds in that moment, and suddenly she wondered why she had bothered contacting him at all.

“You did leave, without a word,” Sinclair reminded her gently. He wasn't angry with her and didn't want to fight, though he knew it was inevitable. He had known from the moment he saw her face that she wanted, maybe needed, this.

_“Because you basically told me that you had used me, that all we had was a one night stand!”_

“Which was all you wanted at the time,” he reminded her. He didn't want to fight, but his patience was already wearing thin, and that reaction surprised him. “Though you seem to have conveniently forgotten that, which you also did at the time. Anyway, was there really a need to just runaway like you did?”

_“Yes, there was. I needed time to sort my feelings out, sort myself out,”_ Catherine replied hotly. _“I felt betrayed, Jeff, betrayed by you and your sudden lack of commitment, though given our history, I really shouldn't have been surprised. I felt used and I didn't like it. And I also wanted to see what you would do, which was nothing.”_

“You never wanted me to chase you before. In fact, you've made that very clear on several occasions.” He sighed, willing his anger is dissipate. “So why are we talking now, Catherine?”

Her face softened a little. _”I have a great, once in a lifetime opportunity, exploring with a team out on the rim,”_ she explained. _“I know I prefer to work alone, but this is major. But it's a long run, maybe a couple of years.”_ She sighed. _“I've been so confused over my feelings for you that before I made a decision, I wanted to talk to you, to see how things were between us. I wanted to see if they were still the same or if they had changed. I guess I have my answer.”_

“You should do it anyway, Catherine. I know how much it means to you.” Even if they had still been together, Sinclair would have told her the same; if they had been together, he would have waited for her. “As for how I feel...I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you or mislead you, I hope you know that. Sometimes, things just change before you know what's going on. I thought we could fall back into the same routine we usually do, but it didn't work. At least not for me.”

Catherine turned her head away for a few moments to compose herself, and when she turned back, Sinclair saw that steely gaze he was so used to whenever he had left her in the past; the only difference this time was that their separation was permanent and they both knew it. _“I guess I'm not surprised. Hurt? Yes. I didn't realise just how much I still cared for you and now I wish to hell I didn't. Angry? Of course. But I'm not going to make a scene. Maybe we will have a reckoning one day; people with a history as long as ours usually do. But it won't be for a long time, if it ever happens at all.”_ She sighed and suddenly her expression softened. _“Be happy, Jeff, and don't forget about me.”_

“I won't,” he said quietly. “Take care, Catherine.”

_“Goodbye, Jeff.”_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

The last thing Sinclair wanted to do was send Ivanova off the station, especially with the message he had just received from Catherine, but his second-in-command was already in position, and he knew how much she loved to fly; he also had the strangest feeling she wanted to be as far away from him as possible. He wasn't sure what the problem was, had been trying to pinpoint exactly when she had changed. Was it something he had done or not done, said or not said?

“Okay, Jeff, what's going on?”

Sinclair looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“You haven't listened to a word I've said in the last ten minutes!” Garibaldi exclaimed. “Seriously, what's going on? You and Ivanova...have you argued or something?”

“There is nothing going on with me and Ivanova,” Sinclair said firmly, his tone so resolute that the security chief actually believed him. “And no, we haven't argued.”

“O-kay. So what is it? And please don't tell me it's only this situation with the Raiders.”

He sighed and sat back in his chair. “I received a message from Catherine earlier.”

Garibaldi's eyes widened in surprise. “Really? I thought...well, I thought it was over with you guys.”

“It is. But she wanted to be sure. When she left earlier in the year.... Well, I told you, we didn't talk, she just....”

“Ran away?” Garibaldi supplied helpfully.

Sinclair inclined his head. “I suppose.”

“Jeff, there's no 'suppose' about it. She left the station without even so much as a 'see you later'.”

“Do you want to know what she said?” he asked, almost amused.

The security chief held his hands up in surrender. “Fine, I'm all ears.”

“Maybe Kosh could make that possible,” Sinclair murmured. “Anyway, she won't be back in this area for a long time. She's accepted a job on a research team, exploring the rim.”

“Team work?” Garibaldi repeated sceptically. “I didn't think that was Catherine's thing.”

“Neither did I, but it seems to be what she wants.”

“And it's far away from you.”

“Did you have to say that?”

“Just making a point.”

“Don't. Anyway, that's why I was distracted just now.”

Garibaldi nodded his head, and decided it wasn't the right time to bring up the problem with Ivanova, because he was certain there was one even if his friend wouldn't admit it. “Alright, thanks for telling me. But next time...don't make me ask, okay?”

Sinclair smiled. “Okay. Now, what were you saying?”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Time seemed to pass far too slowly for Ivanova and she found herself twitching constantly in her StarFury, which confused her. Usually, nothing quite soothed her like flying, but not this. Probably because nothing was happening. It was all Sinclair's fault. That small reasonable part of her was still clinging on an continued to roll its eyes at her idiotic – to it – thoughts. Ivanova was doing her best to ignore it, though it was difficult; she had always trusted her gut before and she wasn't exactly sure why she should stop now, yet it seemed like a good idea.

_“Babylon control to Delta wing.”_

Ivanova gritted her teeth together, Sinclair's voice grating on her nerves. “Confirmed, Babylon control.”

_“What's your status?”_

“Achilles just told us that the Raiders have broken off attack,” she reported dutifully. “We're flying in pursuit.”

Sinclair was frowning heavily while sat at his station. There was an aggressive edge to Ivanova's voice that he didn't care for. _“Negative, Delta leader. Do not pursue. Repeat, do_ not _pursue. Return to base.”_ His reply was more waspish than he would have wanted, but he felt the need to reassert his authority.

Ivanova was silent for a moment, clearly unimpressed with her new orders and she wondered what Sinclair was playing at. “But Commander...,” she started, in an attempt to reason with him, but it didn't come out that way. In fact, to her ears, it came across as an angry retort.

To Sinclair's ears, it came across as a whine. _“It's a diversion, Lieutenant Commander,”_ he said, cutting her off sharply. _“They want your forces as far away from the station as possible. Return to base at once.”_

Ivanova was determined to try again, so sure that he was wrong. “But sir....”

_“That's an order, Lieutenant Commander!”_ he shouted. The whole command deck fell silent, shocked at his outburst; Sinclair was many things, but not known for raising his voice at all.

“Confirmed, Babylon control,” she replied in a sulky voice after a brief moment, and then she cut communications. After several moments of strong language, she contacted the rest of Delta wing. “Show's over, people. We're under orders to head back to the barn.”

None of the other pilots queried what was going on, just confirmed they had heard and understand, and turned around. As Ivanova watched them, she wondered what was wrong with her.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

As soon as Sinclair saw Londo, he knew something was wrong, but couldn't quite put his finger on it. Until the Raider pulled a PPG and threatened Lord Kiro. Then it all made sense. And as he assessed the situation, a part of him was tempted to be reckless because he was so angry with Ivanova, but he held himself in check. He let the Raider past, with Kiro, and stopped himself from taking his frustrations out on Londo, who was less than pleased with Sinclair's decision.

“We'll program the jumpgate to reject the ship's ID code,” the Commander told the ambassador. “We want him outside so he won't do any damage but believe me, once they're outside, they're not going anywhere.”

There was such a growl in Sinclair's voice that Londo actually took a step back, but Ladira leant forward, sensing something about the Commander but unsure exactly what it was. There was a...destiny about him, one that she could not read, and it intrigued her. But there was no more time to think about it; Sinclair was striding in one direction and Londo was trying to lead her the opposite way.

Back on the command deck, Sinclair focussed on the problem, putting his personal feelings to one side. With Alpha wing outside protecting the station, and Delta wing hopefully standing by in hyperspace, the Raiders didn't stand a chance.

Until a ship appeared through its own jumpgate and disappeared much the same way, with Lord Kiro. Sinclair could only stare; he would never hear the end of it from Londo.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Some fight, huh?”

Ivanova turned slowly, one eyebrow raised, as she finished fastening the buttons on her shirt. “You think so?” she asked.

Garibaldi was grinning like an idiot. “Sure! You don't?”

“This isn't fun, Mr Garibaldi, it's duty. We did what we had to in order to protect the station. Nothing more.” With that, she grabbed her jacket and strode from the locker room.

The security chief just stared after her. “Was it something I said?”

Ivanova didn't know why she had snapped at Garibaldi any more than she knew why she was pushing Sinclair away so much, except it seemed to be the right thing to do. Finishing dressing in the transport tube, she headed to the Zocalo for a drink.

“The way I heard it, the Commander was down there when that Centauri was taken prisoner.”

“Not exactly the head of the fight.”

Galus shook his head. “He's the Commander of the station, Warren. He can't be at the front all the time, but believe me, when he gets the chance, he's the first one to rush headlong into danger.”

Keffer grunted. “I'll believe that when I see it.”

Ivanova turned on her heel, drink all but forgotten. There was someone she needed to have words with.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

 

The events of the last few days had disturbed Sinclair more than he cared to admit, especially the vision he had been shown of a possible future. It was the second time in as many months that he had seen the fall of Babylon 5 and he couldn't shake the feeling that the true future lay somewhere close to those possibilities. Then there was the great darkness that seemed to have settled around the station, which now seemed to have lifted; it had permeated Sinclair through to his bones and his soul and even though he sat warm in his office, he shivered and lowered his head into his hands. He concentrated on the silence of the room, of the sound of his breathing and the rhythm of his heartbeat until he could see light in the universe again. The strange character of Mr Morden still loomed in his awareness though he hadn't even seen the man, and Kosh asking for some equipment to repair his encounter suit gnawed at Sinclair's mind, but he tried to push it away. It was strange, for sure, but nothing more than that.

Inevitably, as his mind quietened and his soul drift, Sinclair's thoughts turned to Ivanova. He was certain that when Lady Ladira had showed him a vision of the future, she had not expected he would see more than the fate of the station.

_“You are beautiful, Susan....”_

Before, he had actually allowed himself to think that is was possible. But after the last few days, Sinclair realised he was just fooling himself. Ivanova had shown she had made a decision to put her career first, and it seemed as though she was not going to change her mind again. It hurt him, especially after he had said goodbye to Catherine, but then everything happened for a reason.

_“You are beautiful, Susan....”_

She was, more beautiful than Catherine, stronger, more defiant...to him, Ivanova was perfect, and he caught himself wishing he had said something earlier, then perhaps things would have been different. Perhaps not. Sinclair was not normally one for indulging in regrets, but for once, he was willing to do just that.

Ivanova paused in the doorway to watch him for a moment. He looked so broken, yet she found herself unmoved by the sight of him with his head in her hands, and that worried part of her. But the rest of her was unconcerned; she had made the right choice to concentrate on her career and push any foolish thoughts of a romantic relationship with her superior officer far from her mind. Striding into the room, ignoring the torment Sinclair was suffering, she cleared her throat.

He had not realised she was there, hadn't sensed he was being watched, and that surprised him almost as much as the sudden noise. “Lieutenant Commander,” he greeted her, attempting to act as if everything was normal when nothing could have been further from the truth. “Is something wrong?”

“Something, yes. Just what the hell do you think you were playing at?” she exploded at him.

His eyes widened and hardened at the same time. “Excuse me?”

“How many times have I asked you not to play the hero and put yourself in harms way unnecessarily? How many times have I _told_ you?!” Ivanova shouted at him. “And I'm pretty certain Garibaldi has had this conversation with you as well. And how many times have you promised the both of us that you would be more careful?”

“Now wait a minute...,” Sinclair tried to interrupt, but she carried on talking over the top of him.

“And what happened earlier? You just threw yourself into the fire again, _deliberately_!”

“You're being dramatic and completely unfair,” he told her, rising to his feet. “And may I also remind you that I am your commanding officer? If you're going to shout at me, you could at least try to be respectful about it, dammit!” His temper finally snapped and he all but roared the last word.

Ivanova refused to be shaken. “Fine. You're an idiot, _sir_! I realise you have a death wish, and that's fine, but don't take the rest of us with you!”

“That's enough!” Sinclair's voice was low, like a growl. “You may have your personal issues with people, Lieutenant Commander, and an inability to form decent relationships, but I will not tolerate such an attitude on board my station. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir!” Ivanova saluted crisply.

“Good. Now get the hell out!”

In that instant, their eyes locked and something cracked. Ivanova realised she had crossed a line and didn't know how to repair the damage. Sinclair knew he had pushed back and didn't know what kind of greater damaging affect that would have on their already trouble relationship. In that instant, everything could have been fixed easily, and they both knew it. But it was an instant, nothing more. And when Ivanova left, Sinclair didn't go after her.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Out in space, a transport neared the jumpgate. Comfortably seated, Morden looked back at Babylon 5 and smiled. Even from that distance, he could sense the turmoil, the anger, and it made him happy. His associates would be pleased that everything was going according to plan.

TBC


	21. 119 TKO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder, I've tried to stay as true to the episodes as possible, but sometimes it isn't possible within the way the story is developing. Last chapter and this one have diverted a little from what actually happens, but hopefully still keeping within canon and believable. And a reminder none of this is beta'd. I'm too lazy. XD

_August 2258_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

The last thing Garibaldi wanted to be doing was busting a couple of petty thieves for stealing slappers from med lab, but as it was part of his job, he threw himself into the task half-heartedly. Truth be told, he was distracted, which wasn't like him at all but he couldn't help it. And the reason was simple; well, there were two of them. One was his commanding officer, the second was his XO, and Garibaldi wanted nothing more than to knock their heads together, or to lock them in the brig. And early on, he had been tempted to do both. But as the days turned into weeks, and time continued its slow relentless march heedless of what was happening, he realised that neither Sinclair nor Ivanova would appreciate his efforts to help them. In fact, it could be the worst career – and personal – move he had ever made. And so, despite how hard it was for him, he stood back and pretended everything was normal, even though it was clear to everyone the station it was far from that.

The unmistakable 'thud' of a body hitting the deck made Garibaldi turn, just in time to hear someone say, “One of these days, Garibaldi, you're going to learn to watch your back.”

A slow grin spread across the security chief's face. “Walker Smith,” he replied, genuinely glad to see his old friend. In fact, right now, it was just the kind of distraction he needed.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair lay on his back staring at the ceiling, another sleepless night in a long line of sleepless nights. No matter how hard he tried, no matter which angle or perspective he looked at it from, he couldn't understand at all how he and Ivanova had become so estranged so quickly. They still spoke to each other, of course, but the stiff formality was beginning to wear him down to the bone. Several times over the last couple of weeks he had been tempted to just get into a StarFury and fly into the sun, and that scared him. He was familiar with depression, but he wasn't used to it ruling him like it seemed to be doing lately. And despite Garibaldi's attempts, he found he didn't want to talk to his old friend. Really, what he needed and wanted was a sign from Ivanova that she was hurting and struggling as much as he was, then maybe they could fix the problem. But she seemed to frozen, it was like all of her emotions had been leached from her.

Of course, nothing could have been further from the truth, and if Sinclair had seen Ivanova in that moment, he would have known. She too was in bed, but not even attempting to sleep; she knew it was an impossible task. She was curled on one side holding a cushion to her, her pillow stained with tears. She had screwed up badly and she was acutely aware of her mistake with every thought and action. She had turned the events of the last Raider attack over and over in her mind, until it was all she thought about. Why had she acted so negatively towards Sinclair? Really, what had he done to illicit such a reaction from her? She didn't know, but that didn't pain her as much as the knowledge that the damage was irreparable. She had waited too long to attempt an apology; in fact, she was surprised he hadn't transferred her off the station. She just needed a chance, an opportunity to try and fix things.

Ivanova wanted to prove to the ghost of her father that duty was _not_ everything to her.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

And so, after her shift that day, Ivanova changed into some clothes that weren't her uniform, put on some relaxing music and tried to read a book. She even tried laughing, but her mind was only focused on one thing; Sinclair. It was the first time for a while that she had filled her thoughts so completely, and while a part of her was glad, a part of her was sad that she had ruined perhaps her only chance for happiness.

And when the chimes went, Ivanova had the strange notion that it was the Commander. When the door opened, however, she was far more surprised. “Rabbi Yoslov!”

The moment Yoslov saw Ivanova, he knew something was wrong, other than the reason he had come to Babylon 5. But he also knew she wouldn't talk about it straight away and so he smiled and pretended not to notice. “So formal?”

They chatted for a while, but eventually the topic came around to the death of her father and why she wasn't at the funeral. “The station was in crisis, I couldn't get away,” Ivanova said, fighting back tears she hadn't realised were ready to be shed.

“Of course, duty must come first. I understand,” Yoslov replied. “And so would Andrei.”

As soon as she heard those words, Ivanova tuned out the rest of the conversation and went on autopilot. Her father had _not_ understood her sense of duty; that was why they had not spoken for so long. He had never been interested in hearing about her career, he had never once accepted her invitations to visit her wherever she had been posted. The dream still haunted her, and while deep down she knew she should sit shiva, knew it would help her greatly, she couldn't.

After Yoslov had left, Ivanova felt more alone than ever.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

When Sinclair looked up and saw the man standing in the doorway to his office, his first thought was of Ivanova for some reason, and that surprised him. Certainly she had been on his mind more than normal lately, especially as things seemed inexplicably tense between them, but why a stranger would remind him of her confused him.

“Commander Sinclair?”

“Yes?” he replied, rising, making the invitation for the man to come in.

“I am Rabbi Yoslov, an old family friend of the Ivanovas',” Yoslov said, crossing the room and shaking Sinclair's hand. His first impression of the younger man startled him; he saw an old soul in a tortured body, he saw a warrior and a diplomat, but it was the flare of emotion in Sinclair's eyes at the mention of the Ivanova surname that surprised him the most.

The Commander smiled warmly, some things making sense to him with that introduction, but also raising more questions. “Rabbi. How can I help you?”

“I was wondering if I could take a few moments of your time?”

“Of course. Please.” He gestured to the chair opposite, waiting until Yoslov had sat before lowering himself.

“I wished to talk to you...about Susan. This is a very private matter and....”

“I know Ivanova, I understand,” Sinclair interrupted him with a smile.

“You are aware of the recent death of her father?” Yoslov asked.

Sinclair's expression shifted instantly and he leant forwards. “No. When did this happen?” he asked, his voice full of concern.

Yoslov looked slightly surprised. “Some months ago. Although it does not surprise me that Susan said nothing.” Then he frowned. “But it is my understanding she was talking to him from here when he died.”

“What?” The Commander couldn't help his exclamation, but then his mind turned back to the Euphrates treaty, of Ivanova's obvious distress at that time.

_“I have something to ask you, sir. Off the record. If I may.”_

_Sinclair took a brief moment to consider his second-in-command, knowing what it must have cost her to say that to him. “Of course.”_

_“I need to use the Gold Channel, but I can't tell you why. All I can say is it is for personal reasons. But...I don't want there to be any official record of it. I know that must sound strange but....”_

_“Alright.”_

_Ivanova stared at Sinclair, waiting for him to continue, but when it became clear that was all he was going to say on the matter, her eyebrows rose slightly in astonishment. “Is that it? Sir?”_

_Sinclair smiled gently. “Ivanova, I trust you implicitly. If you're asking me this, it must be very important. I'm not going to say no.”_

_If she was surprised at his statement, she didn't let it show. Instead she just nodded curtly. “Thank you, sir....”_

_“....Ivanova.”_

_“Yes, Commander?”_

_“You could have used the Gold Channel regardless and erased all records of it. You didn't have to bring this to my attention.”_

_“No, sir.”_

_“Then why did you? And why won't you allow me to give you official authorisation?”_

_Ivanova hesitated and then took two steps back into the room. “My personal life is extremely private, Commander. And it isn't an issue of trust, before you say or even think it. It's just the way I am. I prefer to keep things to myself, whether that's a good or bad thing, I don't know. Because of that, I don't want a record of this at all. And I asked you out of courtesy, because going behind your back with this just didn't seem right at all.”_

_Sinclair nodded in understanding. “Thank you for your honesty...Susan. If there's anything I can do to help....”_

_She shook her head. “Thank you, Commander, but no. That's enough.”_

Now it all made sense to Sinclair and he wondered why he hadn't put it all together before. Part of him knew the reason; Ivanova had still been quite new to the station, and he was up to his ears with that damned treaty between the Narns and Centauri. And although he had known at the time that something serious was going on, he had no way of asking her about it without making her feel distinctly uncomfortable and awkward. Yet now he was faced with a similar problem, except they were a lot closer than they were several months ago.

Yoslov tried not to draw attention to the fact that Sinclair's emotions were quite clear on his face for the Rabbi to see, and it gave him hope that Ivanova might actually know true happiness in her lifetime. He knew of the military rules regarding such relationships, but he had always thought they were redundant; if two people cared about each others, rules would not stop them. And though he had only been on the station a short time, Yoslov liked what he had heard about Sinclair, and now liked what he saw in the man in front of him.

Realising several moments had passed in silence, Sinclair tried to smile. “She never said anything about it.”

The Rabbi pretended to ignore the long pause, instead choosing to give him a brief history of the Ivanova family, not really aware that what he was saying was all new to Sinclair. “Susan has travelled a hard road,” Yoslov continued. “And without her family, that road is harder still. I'm worried about her.”

The Commander could see how difficult it was for the older man to admit that. “How can I help?” he asked, hoping his pain wasn't too obvious.

“Susan did not come back for the funeral, which I can accept given her position here, but she has also not sat shiva. Shiva is...,” he started.

“I'm familiar with it,” Sinclair interrupted him once more. Having made some study of religion when he was younger, he understood how important shiva was for a Jew, but especially for Ivanova; she had spoken only briefly of her father, but there was enough information in between the lines which he had picked up on for him to know she needed to do this.

“Well, I was hoping she would sit it now. It is why I am here.” Yoslov spread his hands. “If you could possibly grant her a few days leave....”

“She can take as much time as she needs,” Sinclair replied.

Yoslov was pleased. “Thank you, Commander.”

“And if there is anything else I can do....”

“You are good with negotiations, yes?”

“I'd like to think so.”

“You may need to use those skills with Susan,” Yoslov said with a twinkle in his eye.

Sinclair smiled. “I'm aware of how stubborn she can be, Rabbi. But she needs to do this.” He closed his eyes briefly. It hurt that Ivanova hadn't told him of the death of her father, but he remembered how difficult it had been for her to simply ask him for use of the gold channel at that time. “I'll do what I can.”

“Thank you, Commander.” Yoslov stood and they shook hands again, then as he reached the doorway, he turned and looked around. “By the way, this Babylon 5 of yours...a great miracle!”

Sinclair grinned. “Thank you.”

Once alone, he let his guard down, his anguish plain to see. He was torn over what to do. He could order Ivanova to take some personal time, but that wouldn't strengthen his position as her commanding officer, or her friend, especially with their relationship at such a delicate point lately. He could try talking to her, but he could already see the outcome of that particular conversation; Ivanova's temper was already legendary on the station. But she needed to do this, and he wanted to help her, he just didn't know how.

Lowering his head into his hands, Sinclair wished for a better day.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Dinner was enjoyable for Ivanova, who had missed Yoslov more than she realised, right up until the point where he mentioned talking to Sinclair. Something deep inside her snapped, and her anger must have shown clearly on her face as well as in her voice because Yoslov looked shocked.

“You should _not_ have done that!” she told him firmly. “My private life is just that – private. To share it with a commanding officer....” Her voice choked with emotion. “Especially Commander Sinclair....”

Yoslov was confused. He had thought there was a bond, a connection between Sinclair and Ivanova. Had been wrong? “I just thought....”

“No, you didn't think,” she snapped at him. “My father always tried to control my life, I don't need anyone trying to control me now he's dead!” With that, she threw the napkin on the table and stormed from the restaurant.

Yoslov sat staring at the exit, beginning to see things more clearly now, but with that clarity came more obstacles and confusion. The problem was worse than he had initially thought, and now he was at a loss as to how to fix it.

Ivanova regretted her outburst as soon as it had happened, but she couldn't go back and apologise now. The only thing that could have possibly made things worse would have been running into Sinclair between Fresh Air and her quarters. As the transport tube doors opened, Ivanova changed her mind; there was one thing worse.

Mr Garibaldi.

The security chief's brow creased when he saw her, then he flashed a smile. “Liking the look, Ivanova,” he said in an attempt to make her smile.

It didn't work. Instead she glared daggers at him. “Drop dead, Garibaldi,” she snapped before turning and heading away from the transport tube.

As the doors shut, Garibaldi's expression became determined. “That's it. No more Mr Nice Guy.” He lifted his head and gave the computer new orders. There was someone he needed to see.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair was aware of Ivanova's presence in the doorway to his office long before she spoke, but pretended to be absorbed in his paperwork. Truth be told, he had sat staring at the same page for the last half an hour, his mind and his heart at war with each other. He understood why Ivanova hadn't told him about her father's death; she had still been fairly new to the station, still getting to know him. They weren't as close as they were now, and she was...well, she was Ivanova, not known for wearing her heart on her sleeve at all. Sinclair sighed, wondering if they were actually as close as he thought they had grown; he had started to feel certain things were heading in the right direction, now he wasn't so sure.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

Her voice forced him to raise his head. He tried to smile, to act normally, but failed and she noticed. Something unreadable crossed her features and carefully, he put the pen down and sat back in his chair.

“Come in. Have a seat.”

Ivanova's wasn't sure at first why Sinclair had wanted to see her, but the moment his eyes met hers, she knew. And although she longed to let her guard down and be comforted by him, she stood stiffly. She just couldn't bring herself to let him in completely...to trust him. Everyone she had ever cared about had let her down and left her alone, one way or another; she wasn't sure she could take that risk again. And although she was aware this could well be the opportunity she was looking for to fix things, she found she couldn't take it.

Not moving from the doorway, hands clasped behind her back, she said, “I'd prefer to stand, sir.”

Sinclair's expression didn't alter. “That's an order, Lieutenant Commander.”

Their stiff formality bothered her but she wasn't about to let it show. Clenching her jaw, Ivanova crossed the room and perched on the edge of the chair, her hands clasped in her lap, her posture tense. “You wanted to see me, sir?” she prompted.

Sinclair had always know that Ivanova had built up walls around herself for protection but he hadn't realised how high or how strong they were up until that point, when he hit them head on. It hurt, to be pushed so far away so forcefully, and he let it show. Leaning forward, his arms on his desk, he softened his voice as he asked, “Why didn't you tell me about your father?”

“It was and still is personal.”

“You never asked for leave to go back for the funeral.”

“It was a busy time. You needed....” Ivanova swallowed. “I was needed here.”

That crack in her armour was all the encouragement Sinclair needed and he took a deep breath, his face creasing with sincerity. “Susan, you're the best damned officer I've ever served with,” he said, his voice strong with conviction. “I couldn't run this station without you. But I also consider you a friend. I...I care about you, and I don't want to see you get torn up because you bottled up your grief.” He lowered his voice. “But it is okay to fall apart sometimes; it isn't a show of weakness.” He paused. “I'm granting you leave to sit shiva. You need to do this, Susan. And if you want...if you need me to...if you'd like....” He paused again to collect himself. “I can help put the pieces back together afterwards.”

It was a bold statement and it was almost Ivanova's undoing. She wanted to nod in agreement, to let him look after her; for once, she didn't want to be strong. But instead, she lifted her jaw a little and pushed him further away. Sinclair saw the movement and knew he had lost her, and that realisation almost broke him.

“Thank you for you concern, Commander, and your...friendship. But my personal life is just that, and I don't need or want anyone interfering with it.” She stood. “May I return to my duties now?”

With a heavy heart, and unable to meet her gaze, Sinclair just nodded, tears spilling onto his cheeks before she had left the room, unaware Ivanova too was crying.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Ambassador.”

“Mr Garibaldi. This is a surprise. Is there a problem?”

Garibaldi clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on his feet. “No. Not really. Well, it depends how you look at it. May I?” he asked, gesturing inside.

Delenn inclined her head. “Of course. Please.” She remained standing, letting him choose where he wanted to sit. As far as she was aware, he had never been in her quarters before, and so whatever had brought him here must have been quite serious.

Garibaldi headed for the sofa, but waited until the ambassador had sat down before sitting himself, eliciting a smile from her. “I wanted to ask for your help with something. It isn't official and is sort of personal, though not for me.”

“Would it have something to do with Commander Sinclair and Lieutenant Commander Ivanova?” Delenn asked.

“Ah. You've noticed.”

She pursed her lips and almost frowned. “It would be difficult for anyone to _not_ notice. Except perhaps Kosh.”

Garibaldi smiled. “I did consider asking him, but figured you were the better bet.”

Delenn smiled back; though she wasn't sure exactly what he had just said, she was certain it was some sort of compliment. “So, Mr Garibaldi, how may I help?”

“I was wondering if you could intervene, somehow. Talk to one or both of them, and get them to talk to each other, if you can.” He sighed. “All I know is that the longer this goes on, the more difficult it will be to fix. Plus it makes for a really hellish working environment.”

“I must admit, the atmosphere when they are both present in a room is quite impossible,” Delenn agreed. “Very well, I shall see what I can do.”

“I'd really appreciate that, Ambassador. Thank you,” Garibaldi said, smiling once more in a gentle, genuine way.

“If I may ask, why have you not tackled the problem yourself?”

“I don't think either of them would appreciate it if I locked them in the brig for a week. Or knocked their heads together. Or both.”

Delenn kept a straight face but her eyes were twinkling. “True.”

“Ambassador.”

“Mr Garibaldi.”

“Good luck.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Keffer was surprised to hear someone else in the locker room of the Cobra bays and curiously he looked around the corner to find Sinclair staring back at him. “Er...Commander,” he stuttered, then cursed himself silently. He was a confident pilot who never had any trouble speaking his mind to anyone, yet there was something dangerous in Sinclair's eyes that made him extremely wary.

“Lieutenant Keffer. Did you need something?”

There was also an edge in his voice that Keffer didn't like. “I just wanted to check my StarFury over,” he said. “I like to be prepared.”

Sinclair regarded him for a moment, then nodded. “A good practice to keep.” He turned back to his locker, not sure whether he actually wanted to go through with his plan or not now. Having a witness wasn't something he was counting on. Not that he was planning on anything too stupid; just a quick flight around the block, completely off the record. It wasn't like anyone would yell at him for it; after all, who cared?

A strange notion went through Keffer mind and he stepped into the locker room fully. “Forgive me for asking, sir, but is everything alright?”

Sinclair kept his back to the young pilot for a moment. “How are you settling in?” he asked after a while.

Keffer sat himself on a bench. “Alright. It's...different than what I'm used to, pretty quiet so far.”

“It isn't always that way,” Sinclair told him.

“I know, like with the Raider attack?”

“Zeta wing will get their time to fight, don't worry about that.” The Commander turned finally to look at him.

Keffer stared right back. “It isn't about fighting, sir, it's about protecting this station. That's our job. I don't want to kill anyone, but if they threaten us or Earthforce in any way, then I'll fight until my last breath.” His eyes became distant. “That's what my girlfriend didn't understand.”

Sinclair sat next to him. “What happened?”

“When I told her about this posting, she went nuts. She's always understood the military life and been supportive of me living it, but with Babylon 5's reputation, and how far away it is from Earth....” Keffer pulled a face. “Let's just say she wasn't happy about it all. She said some things, I said some things, and we haven't talked since I got here.”

“You don't seem worried.”

“I'm not. This isn't the first time we've fought. I'll send her some flowers soon with a note apologising, she'll call me a few more names then tell me how much she loves me and misses me....” He smiled. “When you love someone, it's easy to forgive them, no matter what they do. It might not seem that way, but it is actually pretty easy. We just like to make out that it's tougher than it is, because no one wants to have to make that first step.”

Sinclair sat staring into the distance for a long time, silently processing the young man's words, and though it didn't really surprise him, he realised Keffer was right. “Will your girlfriend be visiting the station?” he asked after a long time.

Keffer smiled and shook his head. “She hates to fly.”

Sinclair looked at him and laughed, then stood. “I'm glad you're settling in, Lieutenant.”

“Thanks, Commander.”

As Sinclair left and headed to his office, Keffer shook his head, the conversation he had just had hitting him. “What was I thinking?” he wondered out loud.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

It was only by a stroke of luck that Delenn found the solution to the problem. She had dispatched Lennier to locate her two 'targets and he had found Ivanova in the departure area, saying goodbye to a elderly human. According to Lennier, Ivanova suddenly changed her mind about something called 'shiva'; he said it was quite strange. Delenn immediately asked the computer to search for 'shiva' in Earth culture, and it wasn't long before she knew just how to fix things, and it wouldn't be by talking to Sinclair as she originally thought. Now all she had to do was intercept Ivanova.

As it happened, they ended up in a transport tube together, which could not have been more perfect. “Lieutenant Commander.”

Ivanova looked at Delenn and nodded. “Ambassador.”

Already the Minbari could see the shadow lifting from the human. “I hope you will forgive the intrusion, but is everything alright? You have not seemed yourself lately.”

“I haven't felt like it,” Ivanova admitted, surprised as always at how easy it was to talk to Delenn.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No, Ambassador.”

Delenn was silent for a few moments, her gaze forward. “I overheard a strange term the other day, one I am not familiar with. Shiva.” She fixed her eyes on Ivanova. “Do you know what it is?”

Her reaction was exactly what the ambassador had hoped for, and if she knew Ivanova like she thought she did, she knew she would only be able to answer truthfully. And sure enough, she did. “My father died earlier in the year,” Ivanova said at the end. “And I didn't go back for the funeral. Commander Sinclair was negotiating the Euphrates treaty at the time and I felt I was needed her, but really...I couldn't go. Not alone. I couldn't say goodbye to the rest of my family.”

A single tear rolled down Ivanova's cheek and Delenn laid a hand on her arm. “There are other types of family other than that of blood,” she said gently. “If you allow yourself to see them.”

“I know.”

“And you have not sat...shiva?” Delenn asked.

Ivanova shook her head. “Our family Rabbi came all this way to help me sit shiva and I was just unkind to him. He almost left, but.... I don't know, something made me ask him to stay.”

“This is good. Have you spoken to Commander Sinclair yet?”

Ivanova sighed. “No.”

Delenn fixed her with the most penetrating stare she had ever been subjected to. “You should. Now, not later. Whatever has happened does not matter; it is in the past and cannot be changed. And the Commander is a most understanding man; words are not always needed, just a little effort. And while that can be frightening, I know you are not without courage. It is not too late to...to fix this.”

Ivanova nodded, then smiled. “Have you been spending time with Mr Garibaldi?” she asked.

Delenn finally removed her hand and turned her eyes forward. “Perhaps.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova hesitated in the doorway, a strong sense of deja vu coming to her, but whereas last time, she had entered Sinclair's office somewhat boldly, this time she was extremely hesitant and with good reason; she had pushed him away and pushed hard, and she knew precisely why. And she knew she had to fix the problem, she just wasn't sure how.

“Please don't hover, it makes me feel uncomfortable.”

Sinclair's deep voice startled her and she glared into the dimness of the office, instinctively knowing where he was. “I was just....”

“You were about to come in and sit over here with me, to start with,” he said, cutting her off. It was delivered in his usual soft spoken way, but there was steel underlying it, making it more of an order than a request and Ivanova sighed. It was possible this was going to harder than she first thought, but she was also certain she could fix it, despite the fact that they were both as stubborn as each other.

Instead of tugging her uniform and squaring her shoulders, Ivanova forced herself to relax, filling her mind with happier times as she walked across the office towards the sofas, and instead of taking the once opposite Sinclair, she sat right next to him, not quite touching, but not far away.

“I know I owe you an apology and an explanation, I'm just not sure I can do it all in one go, but I would like to try, so please don't interrupt me.” As Ivanova took a deep breath, she was aware of Sinclair's surprised expression and a shift in his position as he turned to face her, but she focussed her attention past him, on the strange wall decoration of circles and triangles. “I wanted to tell you about my father's illness, and his death, so much at the time. I wanted you to comfort me, but I was scared. Everyone I care about I lose, and so I've found it easier to just not let anyone get too close. And I had been fine like that...until I met you. Maybe I should have said something, but it was just too early on in my position on this station; I didn't want to ask for leave as I felt I still had to prove something to you, and everyone else. And earlier, when you encouraged me to sit shiva...I realised you were right.” She took another breath and released it shakily. “And I'm sorry, so sorry, that I pushed you away. I just...I was scared. With Yoslov here, it just served to remind me that my mother, my father, my brother...they're all dead. And you....”

“I'm here, Susan. Just as I always have been. Just as I always will be.” His voice was right next to her ear, but instead of startling her with his closeness, it comforted her, and she allowed herself to be pulled to him, her head coming to rest on his shoulder. She felt him heave a great sigh, like a huge weight had just been lifted, and she silently cursed herself for causing that strain. “It's okay,” he murmured, as though he knew what she was thinking. “It will all be fine.” He sighed again. “You know, lately I've felt this darkness descending and over the last week or so, it has been worse. It's like there's no more hope left in the universe. But now it has disappeared, like a cloud vanishing from in front of the sun.”

“We need the darkness to see the light,” Ivanova told him quietly.

Sinclair smiled into her hair. “Very Minbari.”

She wanted to think of something witty to respond with, but she was just so comfortable in his embrace that all she could manage was a mild, “Hmm,” in response.

Sinclair's smile grew, and after a few moments, he asked, “Was that why you were looking for me?”

Ivanova shook her head and reluctantly withdrew, though he noticed she kept her hands on his arms. “I wanted to say that I've thought about what you said and if the offer is still there, I would like to take some personal time to sit shiva.”

On impulse, he reached out and cupped her cheek. “Granted. Take as long as you need.”

They stared into each others' eyes for a long moment, then Ivanova rose slowly. “Thank you, Commander.”

Sinclair stood as well. “Susan, I believe it is customary for...friends to show their respects at shiva.”

“Yes, it is.”

“I'll be there.”

It was a promise and she smiled at him. “I'd like that, thank you.”

Ivanova was two steps from leaving the office when a strange compulsion took over her, and turning, she all but ran back to Sinclair, throwing her arms around him and pulling him tightly to her. He responded in kind, holding her more tightly than he had ever held anyone before.

And outside in the corridor, Kosh almost smiled to himself as he glided away. Sinclair had always been easy to manipulate; Ivanova had proved more difficult but the 'push' he gave her which made her stop Yoslov from leaving had done the trick. It had even been easy to plant a suggestion into Keffer's mind. And Delenn...Delenn had been doing his work as usual, whether she knew it or not. Finally, balance had returned to the station.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

It was late, but neither of them were tired and even if they were, they were both far too comfy to move. Sinclair sat in the armchair, his long legs stretched out before him, Ivanova curled up on the sofa in the corner nearest him.

“Do you feel this is...helping you at all?” he asked tentatively, quietly.

Ivanova put her elbow on the arm of the sofa and rested her chin on her hand. “I think so,” she replied after a while. “There are so many things I'd forgotten that are coming back to me through doing this, which his good.” She regarded him closely. “But you seem troubled, Jeff. What is it?”

He smiled, a natural reflex at hearing his name from her lips. “In the spirit of sharing, I want to tell you something, something I've wanted to share for a while now, but I didn't think this was an appropriate time.”

She smiled back. “This may be the only time. What is it?”

Sinclair tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. “When I was captured by the Knights earlier this year, I told you that your voice helped to bring me back. But it was more than that. While they had me in that damned cybernet, while they were trying to break me, you were there,” he explained, his voice cracking a little with emotion. “You weren't a dream, you weren't of their making.” He smiled. “I remember you saying that you could be my conscience if I wanted you to be. You told me to hang on, that I needed to break out of the cybernet...and come home.”

Ivanova drew a somewhat sharp breath. It was impossible that Sinclair knew her secret, and yet...was such a connection possible? She didn't know. But now wasn't the time to share that particular point about herself. In the future, definitely; perhaps sooner rather than later. But not now. “I don't know what to say.”

He shifted his gaze from the ceiling to her face. “You don't have to say anything,” he said gently. “I just wanted you to know that you...well, you saved me. I couldn't tell you back then because....”

She nodded. “I know, it was too soon.”

Sinclair nodded as well, slowly, lost in thought. There was something else, as well, something which had been playing heavily on his mind for most of the year.

_“You are beautiful, Susan....”_

The dream he had experienced right before waking up in the cybernet with the Knights had disturbed him greatly, but he had managed to pass it off as being of hallucinogenic drug origin. Until he and Garibaldi went to Babylon 4.

_“I've seen smaller asteroids,” she quipped._

_He rolled his eyes, although she couldn't see him. “You try running this station.”_

_“My solution is simple; threaten everyone at least once a day and they would soon learn their places.”_

_He laughed loudly, the sound reverberating in his torso. Suddenly she was straddling his thighs, her knees holding his hips tightly, her hands on his chest. His breath caught in his throat as he looked her, hair falling down one side of her face. Hesitantly, with a shaking hand, he reached for her._

_“You are beautiful, Susan....”_

That was no dream. If Krantz was right, it was a vision of the future, though whether real or just a possibility, Sinclair didn't know.

And then again, just last week, he had experienced the same thing.

_“I've seen smaller asteroids,” she quipped...._

_“You are beautiful, Susan....”_

A vision of what may be. Yet sitting in Ivanova's quarters with her, as they were just in that moment, Sinclair could see it being real. Other memories from Babylon 4 tried to push their way into his mind, but he ignored them, as he had been trying to do since the incident. There was no way they could be real; at least that was what he kept trying to convince himself.

“Are you still with me?”

Ivanova's voice was teasing but laced with concern, and Sinclair had the overwhelming urge to tell her everything, but he couldn't. He also couldn't lie to her. “Sorry, I was...thinking. But I can't tell you about what. Not yet, at least. But soon, I hope...in the future.”

“I understand,” Ivanova told him, and he could see by her expression that she did.

Smiling softly, he brought his full attention back to the future. “So, tell me something else about your father that I don't know.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Shiva had been long and emotional, and when Ivanova finally broke down, she didn't look for Yoslov as she may have once done. Instead, she turned to her right, knowing instinctively that Sinclair would be there to hold her. It was a move of almost blind faith for her, but it just felt right, placing her complete trust in the man she was proud to serve with, to call a friend, the one whom her heart truly belonged to. And through her tears and the release of pent up grief - not just over the loss of her father but also her mother, her brother, of the pain from the last couple of weeks - she felt his arms around her, startled again by their strength, glad of the warmth emitted from just from his body, but his soul. He tucked her head underneath his chin and just held her, without speaking, without moving, just being there for her.

Sinclair wanted nothing more than to take away the pain the woman in his arms was feeling, but it wasn't his to bear. Instead, he did all he could to help her, praying his strength would become her strength, whatever she needed to get through this. He glanced over at Yoslov to find the Rabbi watching him very intently. No words were needed as their gazes met, their love, in different ways, for the woman between them all too clear in their expressions. Then Yoslov nodded, a gesture of profound respect, and Sinclair had the feeling that he was somehow being given approval. For what, he wasn't sure, but it made him feel less guilty over his perceived breach of regulations, and almost hopeful about his future. Yoslov then stepped forward and murmured something in Russian to Ivanova, who nodded in response, though Sinclair couldn't be sure she was really aware of what was going on. One by one, the people congregated in her quarters left, the Rabbi being the last. Then they were alone. Sinclair's heartbeat suddenly sped up of its own accord, and he cursed himself for such foolishness. They had been alone before and it was never a problem...what was different now?

“It's the uniform,” Ivanova murmured from somewhere in the region of his chest.

“Can you read my thoughts now?” Sinclair asked lightly, though he felt her stiffen at the remark, and thought he knew why.

“No. I heard your heart start beating faster than Garibaldi eats,” she replied.

“Ah.”

“This makes you uncomfortable.”

“Not really.” Which was true. At least not uncomfortable in the way she meant it. “But you're right. The uniform keeps us separate, reminds us of who we are. This is a new situation for us.”

Ivanova pulled back, but didn't leave the protective circle of his arms completely, though she didn't look at him either. “Is this something you can't handle, Commander?”

Sinclair put his hand gently under her chin and forced her to look at him. “It's Jeff. You've used my name before, you know how to.” He smiled. “And I can handle this just as well as you can, Susan. We're friends. We're doing nothing wrong.”

“I know that, or are you trying to convince yourself, Jeff?”

“Perhaps a little.”

“Thank you.”

“That's what friends are for,” Sinclair said.

“Then thank you for being my friend. I thought...I've always kept work and my personal life separate,” Ivanova started to explain. “But here, on this station....”

“They become one and the same. It's difficult, but it doesn't have to be a bad thing.”

“No, I understand that now. And it's because of you. And Michael and Stephen as well, but mainly you.” She took a deep breath. “Though I've lost my family, you've helped to give me another. Thank you.”

Sinclair smiled openly, an expression he rarely used, allowing her to see him clearly. Tenderly, he brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Thank you, Susan, for allowing me to share this with you. And for being a part of my life.” Slowly, he leant forward and kissed her forehead. “Will you be alright now?”

She nodded. “I think I'll get some rest.”

“A good idea.” He finally let her go and started to back away. “Goodnight, Susan.”

“Goodnight, Jeff.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Hey, Michael.”

Garibaldi turned and scanned the crowd before his gaze fixed on a familiar face. “Hey, Stephen. You off duty?”

Franklin nodded. “You got time for a drink?”

“Sure do.”

“So, how did the fight go?”

Garibaldi grinned. “It was a draw.”

Franklin's eyes widened. “Really? I knew Walker Smith was good, but....”

“He's the best I've ever seen. And now, humans can fight as brothers alongside the other aliens in the contest.”

“Hmm. I'm not sure that's a good idea,” Franklin said, frowning a little.

“Come on, lighten up, Doc,” Garibaldi told him. “It's just a sport.”

“Have you ever tried to patch up a boxing victim?” the doctor asked curtly.

The Chief held his hands up. “Forget it. Let's just agree to disagree, okay?”

“Deal.” Franklin sipped his drink. “How long has it been since you've seen each other?”

“A while. Seems he's had a rough time of it lately, but I think his career will be picking up again after this.” Garibaldi stretched a little. “So, did I miss anything?”

The doctor's expression turned sombre. “Did you know Ivanova's father died earlier this year?”

Garibaldi looked distant for a brief second, his mind turning back several months.

_He saw the reason for the subterfuge; he watched Ivanova's father apologising to her, and then dying. He knew she would never had asked for leave during such a tense time on the station, regardless of the fact that Sinclair would have given it to her and that he would be quite annoyed if he found out about all of this...._

_“Is the problem fixed now?” Ivanova asked, trying to hide her relief but failing._

_Garibaldi nodded again. “I'm pretty sure it won't happen again...will it?”_

_She swallowed hard, touched by his concern over the entire matter, but also a little ashamed over her conduct. “No, it won't,” she promised, holding back the tears._

_Garibaldi watched her, painfully aware of her suffering but unsure how to comfort her. Instead, he just bounced his hands off the railing a couple of times before walking off, but he stopped in the doorway. “Buy you a drink?”_

_“I'm on duty,” Ivanova replied stiffly. He nodded in understanding and carried on walking, but her voice stopped him. “Garibaldi! Another time?”_

_“Look forward to it,” he said, smiling in appreciation of the effort she was making._

“No, I didn't,” he answered, his voice filled with concern.

Franklin didn't notice Garibaldi's distraction; instead he just nodded slowly. “Apparently no one did, not even the Commander.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that out of all the people on this station, he is the second person I would expect to know something so personal about Ivanova.”

Garibaldi raised his eyebrows. “The second?” he repeated surprised.

Franklin nodded again. “The first would be you.”

It was clear to the security chief that he wasn't the only one who had noticed more going on with Sinclair and Ivanova than either of them were willing to admit, but like him and them, Franklin also wasn't willing to discuss it openly.

“So what does Ivanova's father dying have to do with...?”

Franklin explained about Yoslov arriving, Sinclair's anguish over not knowing what was going on, and Ivanova's eventual agreement to sit shiva. “She seems much better now,” he stated.

“Great. An important religious ceremony for a friend and I missed it!” Garibaldi groused.

The doctor looked at him intently. “Well, I don't know about you, but I didn't receive an invitation.”

Garibaldi just stared back. “As far as I know, the Commander didn't either, he just invited himself.”

“I thought you said you didn't know what had happened!” Franklin said after a few beats, glaring and sitting back in his chair.

The Chief grinned and shrugged. “I lied. So sue me.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

When Ivanova came around the corner with Yoslov and saw Sinclair waiting in the departure area, she wasn't surprised at all. In fact, she was glad he was there and smiled warmly at him. Yoslov saw Sinclair's expression change when he saw Ivanova, and he glanced sideways at her, noting how she looked, and he had to work hard to conceal a smile. They loved each other, of that there was no doubt whatsoever; it shone brightly like a beacon in the night, yet it surprised Yoslov how many people didn't see it, or perhaps they just didn't want to.

“Take care of this place, Commander,” Yoslov said, shaking his hand. “And of Susan.”

Sinclair nodded. “I will.”

Then he spoke Russian, just a little bit, and this time Ivanova was surprised and she didn't even try to hide it, looking at him as though seeing him for the first time, something which seemed to have happened a lot since Yoslov's arrival. The last few days had taught Ivanova many new things, and made her remember others she had forgotten or suppressed. She was more relaxed, seemed happier and content, and Yoslov noticed it all silently, knowing exactly who to thank for her transformation. 

“Be well, Susan,” he said, embracing her.

“I will. And thank you.” 

Yoslov nodded once, then turned and headed for his transport without a backward glance. Sinclair stood close to Ivanova, sensing her sadness at seeing her family friend leave, and silently offering her strength. She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, unconsciously leaning in towards him. Then she straightened, squared her shoulders, and tugged her uniform

“I think I'm ready to go back to work now, sir,” Ivanova said with a smile as she turned to face Sinclair. Although they had never exactly been uncomfortable around each other, their relationship seemed to have entered a new level, one were they were completely at ease together.

Sinclair smiled back, glad to see Ivanova looking more like her usual self. “Good. I've had my fill of double shifts,” he told her teasingly.

“Maybe you'll remember that the next time Miss Sakai visits the station,” she replied smartly. As soon as the words had left her mouth, she froze; she hadn't even realised what she was saying until she had said it. They had never spoken about Catherine, about her role in Sinclair's life; there had never been an opportune moment, or so Ivanova had told herself. More like she was too scared of the answer. And although Catherine hadn't set foot on the station for months, Ivanova was certain the other woman was still a part of Sinclair's life, though judging by the confusion in his features, maybe she was wrong. Not that it mattered now, the damage had been done. But instead of dealing with it, she just nodded curtly to him and said,“Commander,” before turning and walking away.

Sinclair watched her go, trying to work out where that comment had sprung from, and if Ivanova knew the bite her words had. Then he realised the same thing she had, that they had never actually spoken of Catherine and now she was seeking some sort of clarity, whether it was consciously or not. Turning abruptly on his heel, Sinclair his long stride to good use as he powered down the corridor, catching up with his second-in-command before she turned the corner. “Ivanova, wait.”

She turned, frowning. “Commander?”

He looked around, then motioned with his head. “Follow me.”

They walked in silence for a few moments until they reached the space that was shaping up to be the officer's club. It was almost finished, though once again work had stopped due to budget restrains and other factors.

“Have you settled on a name yet?” Ivanova asked curiously as she looked around the place.

Sinclair shook his head and smiled faintly. “Not yet. Had other things on my mind.”

“I don't know what you mean. This station is the quietest place I've served at,” Ivanova said with a straight face.

“Hmm,” Sinclair replied non-committally, but in an amused tone. Then he sighed and sobered. “I wanted to talk to you about.... Well, I've wanted to talk to you for a while, I just didn't know how to approach the subject, and after the last few days.... I just think you deserve an answer.”

Ivanova came to rest against an unfinished booth, her shoulder flush against him. “About Catherine?” she asked, hoping her voice didn't belay her fear, hoping she was reading him correctly and not hoping too much.

He could sense she was scared, felt a breath of fear himself, though he couldn't quite explain why. Instead, he nodded. “About Catherine. When she left the station earlier in the year, it was for good. She won't be coming back, and if she does, it will be strictly for business reasons. It won't be to see me. Though she won't be back for some time anyway.”

“What happened?” she asked carefully.

“She took a job out on the rim.”

Ivanova glared at him. “That's not what I meant. Unless you don't want to answer the question, which is fine. I don't want to pry or anything....”

Sinclair quietened her with a bump of his shoulder and was silent for a moment as he chose his next words very carefully. “She wanted something I thought I could give her and when realised that I couldn't...I didn't handle it very well.”

“Was that Minbari or Vorlon speak?” Ivanova said dryly.

“My heart wasn't in it,” he admitted. “I thought we could just go back to how we were before, sort of like you and Malcolm, but I realised....”

“Too much time had passed. And although they might not have changed much, we found we have,” she replied quietly.

He nodded. “Exactly. And I'm still committed to my career, to this station now, and....” Sinclair trailed off, his eyes firmly fixed to Ivanova's face. He wanted to say 'to you', but couldn't form the words, though it seemed they weren't needed. Once again, she seemed to know what he was thinking and feeling, and after a brief hesitation, she took his hand.

“I know what you mean. Sometimes things change without us knowing.” She looked down at the floor. “But I have to ask you something and I hope you'll forgive me for being intrusive.”

“Go on.”

“You and Catherine had a long history, with breaks like this before. How can you be sure it really is over?”

“I know my own feelings, and I just don't see her the same any more,” Sinclair replied firmly. “And...well...” He trailed off, unable to say what he wanted to.

“Jeff...is there someone else?” Ivanova asked after a long hesitation. She knew if the answer was 'yes', the list of people would be incredibly short, and as he was stood there holding _her_ hand, it would answer a question she had been thinking since she first met him.

As Sinclair looked at her, his gaze intensified and the answer blazed in his eyes quite clearly. But he wanted to say the words as much as she needed to hear them. “Susan....” 

_Beep._

He closed his eyes and counted to ten. Of all the times.... 

_Beep._

With a scowl, he lifted his hand to his mouth. “Sinclair.” 

_“We've got a problem, Commander,”_ Garibaldi told him, his tone grave. _“Recommend you come down to the station house right away.”_

“On my way.” He looked at Ivanova, his expression intensely apologetic. “I have to go.” 

She nodded and surprisingly smiled. “Don't worry. We have time.” 

Three small words with thousands of meanings, and Sinclair felt his heart lighten. On impulse, he lifted their joined hands and kissed the back of hers. “I'll catch you on your next shift.” 

TBC 


	22. 120 Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter deserves a special mention as this was the one that started this whole crazy idea off in the first place, with Sinclair's comment about Ivanova being too important to him. And I suppose I could have done more with it, but I wanted to try and keep it short...or shorter than some of the others!

_September 2258_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Hey, sorry I'm late,” Garibaldi said as he rushed into Sinclair office.

The Commander smiled at him. “Not a problem. Everything alright?”

“Mr Lennier just told me that Shaal Mayan is planning another visit to the station and Ambassador Delenn would like some extra security, but discretely.”

“After what happened on her last visit, I'm not surprised,” Ivanova said. “Though I am surprised she's choosing to come here again.”

“I'm not,” Sinclair and Garibaldi replied at the same time.

Ivanova rolled her eyes, but did look fondly at them both. “So, what's the big crisis today?” she asked.

Even though the attacks on Mars were a serious thing, and Garibaldi knew Sinclair was taking it even harder than anyone else because he was born on Mars, the security chief couldn't help but notice how much happier his old friend looked, and Ivanova as well. Whatever the problem had been, it was obviously well and truly cleared up now, for which he was extremely glad. He made a mental note to thank Delenn in a most appropriate way, just as soon as he found out what that was. 

After Sinclair had given them their orders, he was surprised Ivanova left with him. Until she stopped after less than ten paces.

“I've got something to attend to,” she said to Garibaldi in the corridor, touching his arm briefly.

He just nodded. “So do I. Catch you later.”

She didn't even bother to try and hide the fact that she was going back to see Sinclair; after all, she wasn't doing anything wrong. And she was concerned about him. Despite his diplomatic demeanour, Ivanova could feel his inner turmoil over the current situation.

“You need to talk,” she told him unceremoniously as she sat down opposite him again, startling him badly. “We can either do it here or over coffee. I know somewhere that does a very special strength that would suit you.”

Sinclair managed to conjure a smile. “I was wondering why my supply kept going down so quickly.” Then his smile turned apologetic. “A coffee would be great, but I really don't have the time. And if I remember correctly from your shift duties, neither do you.”

“True, but bending the rules seems to be a way of life around here.”

“Not today, Susan. I'm sorry.”

Ivanova reached across the desk and covered his hand with hers. “Don't be. I'm worried about you, that's all. This thing with Mars...you're not just worried about Babylon 5 becoming grounds for illegal arms dealings, are you?”

Sinclair was silent for a while as he gathered his thoughts. “I know there has always been...friction between Earth and Mars. Mars feels it should be an independent colony, but the only way they feel they can achieve that is through violence. Being Martian myself, I can understand that completely; but I don't agree with the way their doing it. But I feel torn...it's times like this I feel that being a part of Earthforce makes me a traitor in some way.” He focused on her. “You know, I suffered a lot of torment in the academy because I wasn't Earth-born. Most people lost interest in hazing me pretty quickly, and if they continued, it was in a friendly way, but I remember one guy, Sheridan, who just wouldn't let up, despite the fact that I was older than him.”

“Sheridan?” Ivanova repeated in surprise. “John Sheridan?”

Sinclair nodded, then realisation hit him. “You served with him on Io.”

“Briefly. He's a good man.”

“I'm sure he is...now.”

“The past can create a terrible hold on us sometimes.”

“Yes, it can. But not this time. That was many years ago, and we've actually met since then, during the Mars riots.”

Ivanova studied him. “That must have been difficult for you.”

“I made a choice when I joined Earthforce,” Sinclair told her. “And if there were riots on Io, or Earth, or here, I would treat them exactly the same.”

“Yet this is different.”

He sighed. “I have a bad feeling about it.”

Ivanova laughed then. “Lately, you have a bad feeling about everything, Commander.”

Sinclair smiled back. “True. Maybe I'm spending too much time around you. I'm turning into a gloomy Russian pessimist.”

Ivanova withdrew her hand and stood. “I resent that, Commander,” she said mock-sternly, though her eyes were still smiling at him.

“I apologise, Lieutenant Commander.”

“I am not gloomy.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

After Garibaldi had visited with Colonel Ben Zayn and Mr Gray, he stalked around an abandoned part of the station swearing like a GROPO for several moments while he calmed down. He already knew what Sinclair would think of this latest development, and the fact that Gray was Psi Corps would set Ivanova up in flames straight away. He wasn't too happy about it all himself either, but at least one of the command staff had to try and keep a calm head throughout the investigation. Which brought Garibaldi to another dilemma.

“Garibaldi to Sinclair.”

_“Sinclair.”_

“My quarters in five. Ultraviolet. Bring a friend.” The security guard didn't wait for a response as he cut the link. Instead, he settled for swearing a few more times, then punched the bulkhead for good measure as he strode off.

He had barely been inside his quarters one full minute before the chimes sounded, and he was granting entrance to Sinclair and Ivanova. “What's going on, Chief?” she asked curiously, subtly inspecting his digs at the same time, and it occurred to him that it was probably the first time she had ever been inside.

“We might have a problem. Maybe more than one.”

“Oh goody,” Ivanova said sarcastically.

Garibaldi just looked at her, then gestured. “Take a seat.”

Sinclair was frowning. “What's going on, Michael?”

“Those two guys I told you about? Businessmen?” Garibaldi asked and the Commander nodded. “Not even close. They're Eyes.”

Sinclair and Ivanova looked at each other. “Internal affairs?”

“The same.”

“What are they doing here? And why the secrecy?”

The security chief spread his hands. “The Colonel didn't say,” he replied, and already he could see his friend's anger growing. “All I know is that he wants to meet with both of you and me in an hour.”

“Colonel?” Sinclair repeated, already developing a bad feeling over the whole thing.

“Colonel Ari Ben Zayn and his...associate, Mr Gray....” Garibaldi trailed off and looked at Ivanova.

“What?” she asked.

He sighed. “He's Psi Corps.”

Her reaction was fairly predictable. She shot straight up from the couch and repeated, “What?” though more vehemently than before.

Sinclair reached up and took hold of her wrist, tugging her back onto her seat. “Let's just see what they're doing here first before we think up creative ways to get rid of them,” he told her with a smile, already knowing what was going through her mind, and she smiled back somewhat sheepishly.

“That leads me to the second problem,” Garibaldi said.

Sinclair sighed wearily. “Go on.”

“It's Dr Franklin....”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

The meeting had gone about as well as Sinclair expected it to, and as soon as Zayn and Gray had left his office, he sunk into his chair, visibly shaking, his fists clenched. “By God, if I ever find out who's behind this circus act....”

Ivanova physically flinched from the raw anger he was exuding but she calmed herself and pushed it away. “I will not submit to a telepathic scan, Commander. It's against my person and my principles.”

Sinclair looked up, partly surprised she was still there, but not surprised at all. As he regarded her face, the way her mouth was held in a tight line, he tried to force himself to relax for her benefit. “I don't like it any better than you do,” he said sympathetically. “Enough people have played with my brain already this year.”

His comment brought Ivanova up short. The moment she had discovered Mr Gray was Psi Corps, and then the order that she would have to submit to a scan, she had been so focused on her own issues that she had forgotten she wasn't the only one with a distaste for telepaths; she wasn't the only one with issues. Rounding the desk, she took hold of Sinclair's hands very gently, frowning at how white his knuckles were, and as she prised his fingers open, she saw fingernail marks on his palms. Staring for a moment, she raised them to her lips and kissed them softly.

Sinclair sighed at her touched and leant forward, resting his head on her. “We'll get through this,” Ivanova reassured him, lightly running her fingers through his hair.

He looked up then, his eyes darker than normal. “I won't let it happen...to either of us,” he said fiercely. “I promise.” Taking her hands, he kissed the backs of them. “Return to duty, Susan. Let me worry about this.”

With one last lingering look, Ivanova nodded then turned on her heel.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Mr Garibaldi,” Franklin said, looking up in surprise when the security chief walked into med lab. “What brings you down here?”

“Just walking. Looking in on things. People,” Garibaldi replied non-committally, hands in his pockets as he scanned the room.

Franklin wasn't fooled for a moment. “Really. You know, half a truth is worse than a lie.”

The security chief just shrugged, unfazed. “We may have a little problem and we need you to...lay low for a while.”

“Say what?” the doctor asked, his eyebrows rising dramatically.

“Look, Doc, we have people on the station who are going to want to be sticking their noses into everything, and they have the right to do so as well. And I'm pretty certain that are things you don't want them know, seeing as you've tried hard to make sure neither the Commander or Ivanova find out.”

Franklin winced. “I was wondering how long it would be before you noticed, or said something.”

Garibaldi looked wounded. “Stephen, please. There is very little that happens on this station that I don't know about.” He then turned serious. “Look, now isn't the time to talk about it. Just find a way to not leave med lab.”

“And how am I supposed to do that, Mr Garibaldi?” he asked with a laugh.

“I don't know. Make up an emergency or something....” Inspiration suddenly lit up the security chief's face. “Hold that thought, I'll get back to you.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova was stalking the corridors like an animal hunting prey, which in a sense was true. Gray had gotten under her skin, deliberately too. But hopefully she had managed to shield certain thoughts from him; she was all too aware that her feelings for Sinclair could be picked up on easily and that was the last thing she wanted or needed. It was just the sort of thing Zayn would gleefully pounce upon and use against them.

“Is it safe to get any closer or would I better going outside the station?” a dry voice asked.

Ivanova turned to see Franklin watching her from a distance. While he certainly wasn't the last person she wanted to see, he wasn't first on her list either. “Was there something, Doctor?”

For a moment he wondered if she was annoyed with him for his out of hours activity, but decided against it. It wasn't really in Ivanova's nature to be subtle. “You look like you're ready for tearing someone apart and feeding them to the Pak'ma'ra.”

“Would you have any objection if I did?”

Franklin shrugged and smiled. “Depends who.”

“Have you heard about the Eyes investigation?”

He shook his head, then stopped as his expression turned to one of comprehension. “Ah, our 'visitors' Mr Garibaldi just told me about. Apparently I'm to make myself scarce while they're here.”

“Probably a good idea. One of them is a telepath, Stephen,” Ivanova told him wearily.

“Oh.” Several things fell into place instantly. “Are you okay?”

“No. And I won't be until they have left the station.” She then looked at him properly. “So how are you going to 'make yourself scarce'?”

“Mr Garibaldi is working on a plan,” Franklin told her dryly.

“Should I be worried?”

“More than likely. I know I am.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Garibaldi tried not to stagger too much as he left Zayn's quarters. What should have been a brief visit to hand over the requested files had turned into an all night review session, with the Colonel questioning every single major decision Sinclair had made since the start of the year, and even before then. There was an ugliness in the shadows of all this that made Garibaldi shiver; he had the feeling it wasn't going to end well for any of them. And although he really wanted to just go straight to his quarters and sleep, like Zayn had told him to, there were a couple of things he had to take care of first. Luckily, he didn't have to go very far for one of them.

“Good morning, Ambassador,” he said as he stepped into the transport tube.

“Good morning, Mr Garibaldi...if it is indeed good morning,” Delenn replied, looking at him curiously.

The security chief smiled wearily back, not offended by her scrutiny. “I've been up all night working, and not having any fun at all while doing it.”

“I understand.” She turned her gaze ahead. “I hope Lennier is not causing you too much trouble. I fear his curiosity gets the better of him sometimes.”

“No, not at all, Ambassador,” he assured her.

“Good.”

Taking a deep breath, Garibaldi turned. “But there is something I wanted to ask you. Another favour.”

“As important as the last one?” Delenn asked with a smile.

“Far more serious.”

She inclined her head. “If I can be of assistance....”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair looked like a fairly happy man, but the truth was a little different. He had tried to reassure Garibaldi that everything would be okay, listened to his friend's advice about treading carefully and taking it on board, but in the end he just wanted to allay his fears, convince him they were unfounded. Unfortunately, Sinclair didn't believe that himself. He knew Garibaldi was right by calling it a witch hunt; he just couldn't figure out why it was happening. Standing and stretching, he moved slowly around his quarters, working out a few kinks. He knew he should have been trying to catch some sleep, but he was more interested in absorbing everything he could about Earth law, looking for legal loopholes to stump Zayn with and protect himself and his crew.

Suddenly he heard a screaming, distant in the back of his mind, but there nonetheless. “Susan?” Sinclair murmured, looking around as if he expected to see her stood behind him. But he was alone, the sound no more than a figment of his imagination. Shaking his head, he returned to his seat and started to stare once more at the computer screen.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

It took Ivanova some time to compose herself after her nightmare, her hands shaking as she dressed slowly in her uniform, her whole body shaking even more as she started to write the most difficult letter she had ever had to in her life. She didn't want it to end like this, none of it, but she could see no other choice. Leaving her quarters with a sense of finality, she made her way quickly to her destination and pressed the chimes with more than a little hesitation.

“Come.”

When Ivanova entered Sinclair's quarters and saw his face looking so drawn, shoulders slumped with the weight of the current situation, she almost lost her nerve. Almost turned and fled back to her own quarters, but she didn't. As much as it would hurt him, as much as it was hurting her, this needed to be done.

“My apologies, Commander, but this matter can't wait,” she said, handing him a piece of paper before he had the chance to get out of his seat properly. The look of confusion on his face almost made her laugh; perhaps in another time and place, the situation could have been ideal for some well-deserved teasing. But it wasn't different; it was here and now, and there was no going back.

“What's this about?” he asked, trying to drag his sleep-deprived brain into the present moment and out of Earth law.

Ivanova took a breath and tried to compose herself before speaking. It didn't work very well as her voice shook with every word. “I wish to resign my commission, effective immediately.”

Sinclair had known something was wrong the moment she walked through the door, but he wasn't expecting this. Confusion gave way to shock, pain, and some anger, all of which he quickly quenched. “I'm not accepting this. Not now, not like this. You're too important to me.” He shook his head. “Why are you doing this?”

“Dammit, Jeff, because I don't have a choice! I had a talk with Mr Gray last night, and he told me the Colonel will insist I be scanned. This is the only way to avoid it without putting you in an awkward position!” Her fists clenched so tightly at her side, her entire body held rigid, she looked like a coiled spring ready to release. Hot tears began to spill from her eyes and Sinclair felt his heart splinter.

“Don't cry, Susan,” he said, his voice low and gentle. “I can't bear to see you upset.” He reached out to her and carefully wiped her cheeks with his thumbs, then he dropped his hands and took a step towards her. He looked calm on the outside, but inside he was raging, ready to tear both Gray and Zayn's heads off and throw them into the fusion reactor. To treat his crew like this...his Ivanova...he would not stand for it.

“Please, don't,” Ivanova murmured, knowing exactly what was going through his mind

“Why not?” Sinclair asked.

“Because if you do, I'll start to cry, and if I break down, I might not be able to pull myself together enough to get through this.”

“That's what I'm here for. And you need this; we both do.” And before she had chance to object further, he was in front of her and his arms were around her.

She resisted, he knew she would, and with the weariness he was feeling, it would have been all too easy to just let her go. But he didn't. He held her silently, calmly, until he felt her relax. Until he felt her body shudder and she began to cry. In that moment, Sinclair wanted nothing more than to be there for Ivanova for the rest of his life, in whatever capacity she would have him, in whatever way they could manage. Ivanova seemed to understand what was running through his mind as she curled her fingers into his uniform jacket, holding him tightly as though she was trying to take away some of the stress she knew he was feeling while dealing with her own. Through the pain and confusion emanating from them both emerged a sense of equilibrium, and slowly they began to breathe in time, the universe shrinking until it was just the two of them and nothing else existed. Slowly, Sinclair turned his head and placed a very gentle kiss against Ivanova's temple.

“Everything will work out, I promise,” he whispered.

“How can you know that?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

“Because it has to. Because I have to believe it will be because I can't imagine my life without this station...or you.”

Ivanova pulled back and locked eyes with him, and in that moment, everything changed. Both moved at the same time, their heads gravitating naturally towards each other, and for a short time, reality ceased to exist. Their kiss was brief and though it may have been born of the desperation of their situation, there was a deep well of true feeling there and though neither of them were ready to jump into at that point, both would have happily drowned in it.

They pulled away at the same time, Ivanova being the first to spoke. “Don't apologise and I won't.”

Sinclair smiled. “Okay.” He brushed her cheek with his fingers. “Now, I don't want to hear any more talk of your resigning. I won't have you throwing your career away like this. Besides,” he continued before she could object. “I've found a way to avoid the scan, within the regulations.”

Her relief was obvious and she actually leant against him to support herself. “Permission to borrow your PPG so I can shoot myself squarely in the head?”

Despite the situation, he grinned. “That won't be necessary...this time.”

“Susan...just tell me one thing...why are you so afraid of being scanned?” Sinclair asked gently.

“When my mother made contact with my mind, I could feel her love for me, and you have no idea what that is like,” Ivanova replied after a while. “No one has ever been that close to me before....” _'But it's possible you could be one day.'_ “And no one must ever intrude upon that memory, especially Psi Corps.”

Sinclair nodded in understanding and pulled away from her. “Will you be okay?”

“Yes...thanks to you.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Commander.”

“Chief.”

“You ready?”

Sinclair nodded. “You?”

“If I have to restrain you, I will,” Garibaldi assured him with a smile.

The Commander shook his head and smiled back. “Did you talk with Doctor Franklin?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“Unfortunately, the good doctor couldn't possibly leave med lab or the iso lab any time soon before there is a very important patient down there who is in a critical condition and needs his expertise to stay alive, unless the Colonel wants to start the Minbari war part two,” Garibaldi told him. Sinclair looked at him sharply. “Relax, Jeff, Delenn will make it through. I have every faith in the good doctor's healing abilities.”

“Remind me to...pay my respects to her later,” Sinclair replied. “And show my thanks to the brains behind the operation as well.”

Garibaldi grinned. “I'll send you a list.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova felt better after her talk with Sinclair and even decided to eat in one of the places in the Zocalo instead of the mess hall for a change. But after seeing Gray approach her, she realised what a bad idea that actually was, though the following conversation surprised her a great deal, and she remembered what the Commander had said to her once about getting to know the individual instead of basing her opinion on the organisation they represented. It had worked well with Talia; she was finding that when they had the chance to meet, she actually quite enjoyed the telepath's company.

Unfortunately, her thoughts about Talia were all too clear for Gray to pick up and comment on, and Ivanova's good mood quickly evaporated at that point, along with her appetite. After threatening Gray for the second time in two days, she stormed off to the observation dome, silently worrying about what else he had sensed.

Gray watched her go, more than a little infatuated with her, but well aware that she would rather space him than look at him, and besides, it wasn't what he was here for. He was here to do a job for the Colonel, and what he had just learned was a valuable piece of information indeed. And it wasn't about Talia, or Ivanova's mother.

It was about Sinclair.

There had been a distinct note of pride in Ivanova's voice when she said that the Commander prized knowledge and honesty, but in her mind there was something else. Her emotions had screamed loud and clear, but not one single thing, and although Gray couldn't pick out exactly what he was looking for, the overall feeling was there, and by military law, it was not permitted. And although he should have acted upon it straight away, running to the Colonel and telling him, he didn't. He sat there and contemplated, looking at it from a more civilian point of view than a military one. The only problem were someone's feelings; there was nothing physical involved, and so really, what was the problem?

As Gray walked away, having decided to keep things to himself, he smirked. Yet another blow for the Colonel.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Unfortunately, Zayn didn't need to be a telepath to see the closeness between the Commander and his second-in-command. All he needed was ears, and the authority to scare anyone into talking to him. He had heard plenty of rumours and stories about Sinclair and Ivanova, and although he had no evidence, it didn't stop him from needling the junior officer, especially once he had relieved him of command of Babylon 5.

“One more thing, _Mr_ Sinclair is to confined to his quarters, and is not to have any contact with any Babylon 5 personnel,” Zayn told Garibaldi in a smug tone, his eyes never leaving Sinclair. “That includes you, Mr Garibaldi, and it goes doubly for Lieutenant Commander Ivanova. _Especially_ Lieutenant Commander Ivanova.”

There was a leer to his expression as he spoke, a note in his voice that neither Sinclair nor Garibaldi liked, and both men bunched their muscles with a desire to punch Zayn, but he left before they could act. “I'm going to kill him,” the security chief declared. “Please don't tell me I can't.”

“I'll give you a medal,” Sinclair replied. “Come on, let's get out of here.” They both walked stiffly, but with purpose, down the corridor. “Things are worse than I feared, Michael, get to HQ and see if your sources have uncovered anything. We need an ace in the hole right now. But first....”

“Observation dome, Ivanova. Way ahead of you, Jeff. Don't worry, I'll look after her,” Garibaldi promised him, setting off at a run.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

She had walked away from her post. And she had been banned from seeing the one person she needed to see the most. It wasn't just a bad day for Ivanova; she was literally ready for killing someone.

“Hey!”

“I will _not_ submit to a scan, Garibaldi!” she told him hotly as he caught up with her. “You know, I've always been proud to serve Earthforce, but right now I'd rather serve the Minbari. At least they have a sense of honour.”

He put a hand on her shoulder. “Listen, that offer of a drink I made to you some time ago? It still stands. Any time, any day, anywhere. Okay? But first, I need you to do me a favour.”

“Go on.”

“Go and see him. And we both know which 'him' I mean.” Garibaldi smiled as he let his hand fall away. “I'm serious. Do it. You're not putting anyone or their careers in danger by doing this, okay? Besides, it might make you both bearable if you do see him.”

Despite herself, Ivanova smiled. “Thanks, Garibaldi. It's just...this whole thing...you know?”

He smiled back. “I understand you totally. And we will get through this, okay? Somehow, we'll get through this,” he told her. “Look, I have a few things I need to check, so I'll meet you in the casino in, say, fifteen?”

“Done deal.”

Garibaldi grinned and squeezed her arm once before heading back down the corridor. Ivanova took a deep breath, then put her head down and carried on her way. It didn't take her long to reach her destination, yet she hesitated before hitting the chime. Despite everything they had been through in the year so far, despite the risks she had seen him take, she still didn't want to jeopardise his career in any way, even though it hung in the balance anyway.

“Come.”

The voice was sombre, weary, and as soon as she stepped into his quarters, she had to stop herself from running to him. Even though they had shared close moments before, she didn't want to allow herself too many; didn't want to allow herself to get too close to him.

“Commander.”

Sinclair was more than mildly surprised at his visitor and he let it show. “Shouldn't you be on the command deck right now?”

Ivanova flushed crimson. “Yes, sir,” she said, full of shame, and she bowed her head.

Sinclair crossed the room quickly, putting his finger under her chin. “I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable, I was just asking a question. You know I will rarely question why you do what you do; I just want to understand.”

Ivanova nodded, relaxing at his words. “I'm sorry, Jeff, it's just...this whole thing...you know?” She smiled to herself at the repetition.

And Sinclair did exactly what Garibaldi had done; nodded seriously in agreement. “I know, it's crazy, but hopefully it'll all be over soon.”

“How?”

“I'm not sure yet, but if I know Michael like I do, he's on the case.” He motioned to a stool at the kitchen counter, and Ivanova appreciated the gesture. “So, why are you here?”

“I left my position. Deserted it, I guess. I will _not_ serve under Colonel Ben Hitler,” Ivanova replied, first defiantly, then hotly.

Sinclair smiled. “I'd say you've been spending too long around Mr Garibaldi. But I wouldn't worry; if all goes according to some sort of plan, there will never be a record of it.”

Ivanova nodded. “I know, it's just...how can one person make you feel that way?”

“That could be said for a lot of things,” Sinclair replied, his voice deeper and quieter than normal.

“You're right, it could,” she said, holding his gaze for a moment before looking down. “I should go. I'm supposed to meet Garibaldi in the casino for a drink, so he can calm me down and cheer me up. I just wanted to see you, to make sure you were okay, so just...be near you.”

They moved like one, his arms going around her waist as hers went around his neck. It seemed so natural, as it had done before, and the contact assured them both that at least they had each other. “We'll get through this, Susan.”

“Garibaldi said the same thing,” Ivanova told him with a smile.

“Michael is a good man,” Sinclair said.

“I know.”

“You should go. Mr Garibaldi gets cranky when he's kept waiting,” Sinclair told her with a smile.

She nodded. ““Will you be alright...alone?”

“I'll be just fine. You just take care of yourself out there.”

“Garibaldi's got my back.”

“I'd expect nothing less. I just hope someone has his.”

In a rare display of affection, Ivanova laid her palm against his cheek. “I'll see you soon.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

It had been a whirlwind, as it usually was in those situations. Garibaldi had uncovered a couple of key pieces of information about Zayn, which Sinclair was sure he could use to his advantage, right before the security chief had to run off and stop Ivanova from tearing the casino apart with her bare hands. That had made Sinclair smile with pride; he was certain that Franklin would frown at the number of patients she had single-handedly send to the infirmary, but would wisely choose not to comment on it. Then he had planted notions in Gray's mind, doubts about what was really going on; that had been surprisingly easy, given that he was a telepath and Sinclair obviously was not. But it had worked, partly because the Commander knew Gray wasn't overly keen on Zayn to start with. And making the Colonel lose control...well, that had been far too easy, not to mention fun; Sinclair acknowledged there was a great deal of satisfaction to be had by punching Zayn's lights out.

“I assume the investigation is concluded?” Ivanova asked in amusement.

“Hmm,” was the only reply Sinclair could offer. He was too busy concentrating on the feeling of Ivanova's hand in his, making sure his body concealed the gesture from Gray. Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said of Garibaldi, who noticed but pretended not to, and really, couldn't have cared anyway. At least now, with the circus over with, he could get back to working on his bike.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“I hope things don't turn out too badly for Mr Gray,” Ivanova said as she and Sinclair strolled through the station a short time later.

He glanced at her in surprise. “Really?”

“Really.” She sighed. “You were right. As usual. Sometimes it's best to get to know the individual and ignore their affiliation. To a point.”

“You liked Gray?”

“I didn't dislike him. I think he was being used, and I don't like that.”

Sinclair nodded. “I'm sure things will turn out fine for him.”

“At least everything is back to normal around here,” Ivanova said with obvious relief as they stepped into the transport tube...just in time to see Garibaldi and Lennier zipping down the promenade on a motorcycle. “Did I just...?”

“Yes, you did. Or we're both suffering the same hallucination,” Sinclair replied in a long-suffering tone as the doors closed.

Ivanova shook his head. “Garibaldi I expect that kind of behaviour from. But Mr Lennier?”

“What can I say? Mr Garibaldi can be an extremely bad influence at times.”

“Yes, he can. He's also a very good man.”

“He's one of the best,” Sinclair agreed.

“You're the best,” Ivanova told him quietly. “Jeff, I have to ask you something.”

“Ask away.”

“When you said, 'you're too important to me', that wasn't a slip of the tongue, was it?”

Sinclair shook his head and turned to face her properly. “No, it wasn't. I meant to say it and I meant every word. I told you, I couldn't run this station without you...some days I don't think I could find my socks without you, that's how important you are to me.”

Ivanova didn't even try to fight what she was feeling. Instead, she let a silly, soppy grin break out on her face as she leant against him. “I think I'm speechless.”

Sinclair held her to him for a long moment. “First time for everything,” he said after a while.

TBC


	23. 121 Quality of Mercy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So with only two scenes each for both Sinclair and Ivanova throughout the whole of this episode, it was a challenge to write! :D

_November 2258_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Alright, what have we got?” Sinclair asked once Garibaldi had settled down. Ivanova was already waiting for their weekly meeting, in her usual place as close to the Commander as possible, and the security chief sat right next to her, his arm stretched out across the back of the sofa behind her. It was a measure of how their friendship had grown and strengthened that she didn't move or stiffen; in fact, she turned and gave him a smile. Sinclair caught the silent interaction and was almost tempted to thank Colonel Ben Zayn for this psychotic actions a couple of months ago; it had brought him and his senior staff much closer. With the exception of Franklin, and the thought of the doctor made Sinclair frown a little.

“Couple of thefts in the Zocalo, but we caught the perp,” Garibaldi said, reaching for his coffee cup. “Also thought we had a problem with dust, but it turned out to be nothing.”

Sinclair nodded. “Good.”

“Ombudsman Wellington is also going to pass judgement on Mueller today.”

Ivanova frowned. “Mueller?”

Garibaldi's face darkened. “Psycho who scragged two lurkers and one of my men. I'm hoping Wellington will let me space him.”

“Michael,” Sinclair said in a warning tone.

The security chief held his hands up. “I'm just saying.”

“You know what the likely outcomes are as well as I do, and the ombudsman.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Garibaldi pulled a face. “Anyway, that's it for security. What else is happening?”

“Everything is actually running smoothly,” Ivanova replied with a hint of surprise in her voice.

“But that's good...right?”

“Around here, Mr Garibaldi, it means that something major is just around the corner.”

Garibaldi rolled his eyes and tried not to smile. “Pessimist.”

“Russian.”

“Same thing.”

Sinclair smiled at their banter, but then sobered a little. “We do have another issue we need to fix.”

Ivanova sighed. “Dr Franklin?”

Garibaldi looked up. “Are we talking about the illegal clinic he's been running in down below?”

“Unauthorised would be a better term, Garibaldi,” Sinclair told his friend. “Certainly not illegal.”

The security chief shrugged as if it was just semantics. “Medical care should be issued in the med lab, end of story.”

“And what if people can't afford that care?” Ivanova asked him, then turned to Sinclair. “I understand what he's trying to do and personally, I agree with him, but at the same time, it's not his job.”

“No, it isn't,” Sinclair said. “Michael, did you talk to Stephen about it when Zayn was here?”

Garibaldi shook his head. “I didn't have the time. You told me to protect him and keep him out of the way, and that's what I did. And since then?” He shrugged and looked a little sheepish. “I was actually kinda hoping someone else would do it.”

Ivanova and Sinclair looked at each other. “We can argue about it later,” the Commander said with a a smile.

“I know who my money's on,” Garibaldi murmured.

Sinclair ignored him. “Anything else?”

Garibaldi shifted in his seat. “Actually, there is something. I want to hire a new guy.”

“Who?”

“Zack Allan.”

The name meant nothing to Ivanova, but from the way Sinclair's expression shifted, it meant something to him. “Allan? Really? Why, Michael?”

“Because he's looking for a break,” Garibaldi replied honestly. “And I want to give it to him.”

Sinclair was sceptical. “I understand that, but his record....”

“Look, Jeff, the guy's had some problems. So did I. Now look at me, because you gave me a chance. I want to give him that same chance.”

Ivanova was certain she was missing part of the conversation, though she had heard rumours about Garibaldi before ever having met him. Luckily for him, she didn't put much stock in rumours, but she was still curious to know the truth. “What's the problem with Allan?” she asked.

Garibaldi just shrugged. “He's made some bad decisions but now he wants a fresh start.”

She looked at Sinclair. “And we're against this because...?”

Sinclair sighed and held his hands up in defeat. “Alright, Michael, it's your call. But the minute he....”

“I know, I know, the minute he steps out of line, you'll throw him out of the nearest airlock or chain him outside the Pak'ma'ras quarters,” Garibaldi said, rolling his eyes. Then he glanced at Ivanova. “I received the same threat before I came here.”

“That explains a lot,” she replied, straight-faced.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“So.”

“So.”

“What do you think?”

“About...? I have thoughts on many different things, Commander. You'll have to be a little more specific.”

There was a definite note of mischief in his second-in-command's voice that he didn't miss and it made Sinclair smile and roll his eyes. “About Dr Franklin's clinic in Downbelow”

Ivanova sighed and turned in her chair to look at him. The command deck was quiet, but they had hardly spoken during their shift, though they had stayed close to each other in the small office area. “I think it's good he's trying to help. I think it's a much needed service, especially to those in Downbelow At the same time, I also agree with Garibaldi. I mean, where do we draw the line? If we start giving free med care to some people, soon everybody will want it. Some people don't understand the concept of charity, and if we're not careful, we could have a riot on our hands.”

“Staying optimistic about the situation, I see.”

“Realistic, Commander,” she corrected him, but her tone wasn't playful any more. “I'm serious, Jeff. You know how quickly these things can spiral out of control. In theory, if we lived in a perfect world, I'd be down there helping him out whenever I could.”

“But this isn't a perfect world, I know,” Sinclair replied, pretending to ignore the fact that she had used his first name so casually. “I suppose I'd better talk with him.”

Ivanova eyed him. “Would you like me to do it? Diplomatic education and all that,” she offered, knowing he had enough to be dealing with.

He laughed, but as he thought about it, he nodded slowly. “Alright. If you think you can handle it...diplomatically.”

Ivanova glared at him. “You don't think I can be diplomatic?”

“I have my doubts.”

“Would you care to wage a bet?”

“Not with you.”

Ivanova stared at him for a long minute, so long, in fact, that he actually started to feel uncomfortable. “You know, you still owe me for the prank you and Garibaldi pulled.”

“Which one was that?” Sinclair asked innocently.

But Ivanova wasn't to be baited. “All of them.”

“Alright, I concede payback is warranted. What did you have in mind?”

“I'll think of something,” she said, turning back to her console.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair sat in his office, steadily working through a pile of paperwork, his mind focused on what he was doing. Ivanova was right, things had been very quiet for a couple of months now, and it was starting to worry him. Not that he wanted a situation to deal with, but after the year they had endured, it seemed natural that something was going to happen. Though maybe they were past all that; maybe things really were starting to look up for them. It was certainly that way with his relationship with Ivanova. After the Eyes investigation, they had taken to sharing breakfast in either his or her quarters once a week. Nothing fancy, all very formal, it was just a change from the mess hall. Or so they said. Two or three times they had made it out to dinner, usually in the Zocalo and usually directly after a shift which meant they were still in their uniforms, but it was a good step forward. Even Garibaldi had stopped bothering Sinclair about his friendship with Ivanova, which the Commander took to be a good sign.

Pausing to rest his hand, Sinclair stretched back in his chair and stared ahead, his gaze inevitably falling on the decoration on the wall. He had always found it strange; it was unusual, alien almost, and yet familiar in an odd sort of way. And suddenly, without warning, he remembered a conversation with Garibaldi some months before.

He had told his old friend what happened at the Battle of the Line, about what he'd remembered. And within days, Garibaldi had some information for him. Sinclair knew he wasn't anywhere near first in line to run Babylon 5; in fact, given his history, he was shocked to be picked or even considered. But to find out that everyone else had been rejected by the Minbari was another surprise. Sinclair knew they were the biggest contributors to the project aside from Earth, which had always confused him, and with that new peace of information....

Pushing himself away from his desk, he started to pace. “Why did you surrender?” he murmured out loud. “Why did you offer so much help to build this station? And why did you pick me? Delenn, I wish you would tell me.”

The focus to work had gone. What he really wanted to do was talk to Delenn again but she was off the station and wouldn't be back for a few days. And Ivanova was busy continuing her diplomatic education. But Sinclair smiled to himself as he realised there was one thing that was guaranteed to take his mind off his worries.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova paused before entering the area of Downbelow where she knew Franklin would be. She wanted to get through to the doctor without antagonising him; she knew he already felt like he was kept out of many things, simply because of his job. Despite being part of the senior staff, there was rarely any need for him to be involved in their meetings unless there was an emergency in med lab. Ivanova wasn't sure she agreed with his exclusion, but then she knew it was possible it was self-imposed; whether he knew it or know, she had a good line on Franklin and knew that was a possibility.

The lurkers waiting to be seen looked at her curiously, almost fearfully, but there was no aggression, for which she was glad. The receptionist, however, didn't seem to realise who she was talking to, until she turned to see the blue uniform, follow by Ivanova's face.

“I'm sorry. I'll buzz the doctor. Go right in,” she said in a hurry, looking abashed.

But Ivanova actually smiled instead. “Thank you.” She stepped through into another room, which was surprisingly clean, given where it was, but then again, this was Franklin. He was a perfectionist.

“You can start by removing your clothes,” the doctor said without looking up, simply acknowledging the presence of another patient.

Ivanova's mind immediately went somewhere she didn't really want it to go; Sinclair. She amused herself for a few seconds, imagining what it would be like to hear him say that to her, and her response was immediate. “Not without dinner and flowers.”

Franklin looked up, surprised, not only by her presence but by her flippant comment. “Oh, Lieutenant Commander. What are you doing down here?” he asked mildly. He knew why she was there, of course; in fact, he was surprised the visit hadn't come sooner, and he was surprised it was her and not Sinclair or even Garibaldi.

He wasn't the only one startled; Ivanova couldn't believe she had said those words out loud and it took a huge effort on her part not to blush. Instead, she covered her embarrassment with a snappy reply. “What a coincidence, I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

The conversation from there on out was fairly predictable, but instead of rising to Franklin's self-defensive tone, Ivanova did actually try to be diplomatic. She held her temper in check, tried to reason with the doctor, even be sympathetic to what he was doing, though in the end she wasn't exactly sure she had won or if they had even come to any kind of understanding. She found herself scrubbing up as Franklin went outside to see why his patient line was half the size it was normally.

“So,” he said after the last patient had left.

Ivanova looked at him. “Yes?”

“What does this mean?”

She sighed and leant against a table as she fastened her jacket up. “It means that as long as this clinic doesn't interfere with your duties on this station – the duty of being chief of staff in the med lab – and the supplies diverted down here don't make too much of a hole in our budget....” She shrugged. “It can't go on forever, though, Stephen. You know that. If you offer a service like this freely to a few, soon everyone will want it.”

Franklin nodded and came to rest next to her. “I know. It's just...sometimes I don't feel like I'm doing enough, you know? People come into med lab, I heal them, they go. And I know that I'm doing some good, but these people...they don't have anything. And nobody else is going to help them....”

“That's....”

He held his hand up. “Because you can't,” he continued before Ivanova could get on her high horse. “I understand that. I just feel like someone should give them a break.”

“I know, but we can only protect you for so long,” Ivanova warned him.

Franklin stared at her for a moment. “Is that why I was excluded from the Eyes investigation? Not that I'm complaining,” he continued hurriedly.

She pushed away from the table. “I have to get back on duty. Remember what I said, Doctor. Your job is in med lab, not down here.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova found Sinclair in the Zen garden, and wordlessly she took a seat next to him. “Problems?” she asked after a while.

“Not exactly,” he replied without opening his eyes.

“Did you enjoy your flight time?”

Her tone was mischievous and he couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips. “How did you find out about that?”

“It's a small station, Commander.”

“Not that small.” He sighed. “Yes, I did, actually. I don't remember the last time I felt space beneath my feet.”

“I know what you mean.”

Sinclair finally opened his eyes and turned to look at her. “Did you talk with Stephen?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And?”

Ivanova braced herself for his reaction. “I told him that as long as it didn't interfere with his job in med lab, and he didn't divert too many supplies, he could continue running the clinic for a while longer.”

Sinclair pursed his lips. “I see.”

“He's helping people, Jeff. They need it.”

“I agree, but....”

“Besides, his number of patients seem to be dwindling anyway, for some reason,” Ivanova continued hurriedly.

Sinclair stared at her, then smiled and shook his head. “Alright, Susan, I'll let you handle this one as you see fit.”

“Thank you, sir.”

His gaze turned piercing. “Did you end up helping?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Only to me.”

Ivanova just smiled at him. “What about that killer, Mueller?”

Sinclair's expression turned grave. “The ombudsman has decided on death of personality. Ms Winters is going to perform the duty.”

“I didn't realise she was qualified for it.”

“Apparently few telepaths are.”

“I can understand why,” Ivanova murmured quietly. “And how is Garibaldi taking it?”

“He's on the warpath, naturally.”

“Who's on the warpath?” Garibaldi asked, striding into the garden.

Sinclair simply looked at him. “You are.”

“Damn straight I am,” he agreed. “Wait, why am I on the warpath?”

Ivanova smiled and shook her head while Sinclair laughed a little. “So?”

“Wellington just told Mueller what was going to happen to him and the guy went nuts.” There was a note of satisfaction in Garibaldi's voice. “I can't wait for it, personally.”

“An eye for an eye, Mr Garibaldi?” Ivanova asked.

“Damn right.”

“Michael, have you had chance to talk to Talia yet?” Sinclair asked.

Garibaldi looked at him. “No. Why? Should I?”

The Commander sighed. “You were in the room earlier, you saw how she was. Take care of her, Michael.”

“Will do. Listen, I gotta go talk with Doctor Franklin. Which reminds me....” He looked from Sinclair to Ivanova and back again.

“The situation is under control,” Ivanova replied.

“That's all I wanted to know. One less thing for me to worry about. Lieutenant Commander. Commander.”

“Chief,” they replied in unison as he left.

“If I remember correctly, the next day or two are quiet regarding our shifts,” Sinclair said casually.

“I think you're right, Commander,” Ivanova replied.

“What do you think about a little flight training with the StarFury squadrons? Do some mock battles, defensive and offensive simulations.”

Ivanova couldn't help the grin that spread across her face. “I think that is an excellent idea.”

Sinclair grinned back. “Good.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

It felt good to have space beneath her, Ivanova decided as she practised a few manoeuvers. Damned good, in fact. Punching her console, she opened a private channel to Sinclair. “This was definitely a good idea, Jeff.”

_“You really think so?”_ he replied, clearly amused.

“Of course. Why wouldn't...?” Her question was cut off by her StarFury being rocked by fire. “Oh, it's going to be like that, is it?”

_“I don't know what you're talking about, Lieutenant Commander.”_

“We'll just see about that,” Ivanova retorted.

Sinclair was grinning inside his helmet. _“Catch me if you can!”_

What followed was an incredible display of skill and tactics, and Keffer could only watch in surprise. He knew Sinclair was a good pilot, but he had no idea he was _this_ good. And Ivanova.... “Remind me never to get on her bad side,” he murmured to himself.

_“Alright, Zeta squadron, they've had their fun,”_ Commander Galus said. _“Let's show them what we've got.”_

The other pilots didn't need any more encouragement; soon the space around Babylon 5 was full of coloured blasts and grey blurs as the fighters tried to get the better of each other. All Ivanova could really hear was Sinclair laughing, and she was well aware she was doing the same thing. Her duties on the station were fine, she could handle them well enough. And any crises which appeared could be dealt with, as they had already shown. But this...this was living, in her mind. And she knew Sinclair considered flying as important and natural as breathing. It was like they were made for each other.

That thought shocked Ivanova so much by its randomness that she froze, her hands still on the controls, her ears ignoring the comments by her ship's computer. Too late she realised she was free-falling; too late she realised she was going to hit the station at speed. Too late to do anything about it.

But the impact never came. Instead she felt her StarFury lurch, and then she started to be pulled backwards. And over the comm channel, she heard Sinclair saying, _“And that's what can happen if a pilot is stunned in battle. That's why it's important to always look out for each other, to take care of each other. Nice job, Lieutenant Commander.”_

“Thank you, sir,” Ivanova managed to say, and she hoped she sounded convincing.

Luckily, he didn't say anything else, just called a halt to the training and ordered everyone back to the Cobra bays. But once they were alone in the locker room, he turned to her, concern filling his eyes. “What happened, Susan?”

“I just....” She faltered as she looked at him.

_It's like they were made for each other._

“I just lost my concentration. I can't...I can't tell you why.”

Sinclair nodded in understanding. _“You're beautiful, Susan.”_ “But you're okay?”

Ivanova nodded back firmly. “I'm okay.”

He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Good.”

“I was thinking, sir, that maybe we could include Lieutenant Keffer a little more. He spends far too much time in the Cobra bays when he could be socialising with other crew members. He seems like a solitary man.”

“There's nothing wrong with that, but I know what you mean. Perhaps he can join us in the mess hall for breakfast.”

Ivanova nodded. “Actually, I was thinking we could invite him to the pre-opening of the officers' club, now that it's almost finished.”

Sinclair smiled. “Good thinking. See to it?”

She groaned and pulled a face. “How did I know you were going to say that?”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Garibaldi stared into his glass, sorely wishing it was something stronger, but not tempted enough to go down that road again. He was aware of someone watching him, and looked up to see Franklin next to him. “Doctor,” he said in surprise. “What brings you to this part of town?”

“I was just passing through. Saw you here and thought you looked like you needed a friend,” he replied.

Garibaldi's surprise grew. “Thanks.”

“So, what is it?”

“That killer, Mueller, I thought he had killed before. He seemed too methodical, too good at it for it to be his first time. I did ask Talia if she could poke around, but....”

“It wouldn't make any difference what she found in there in the eyes of the law,” Franklin finished sourly. “I know. Where does right end and wrong begin?”

“I know, right?” Garibaldi sipped his water. “Anyway, Talia just performed the preliminary mind scan, enough for a comparison after he's wiped. I don't know what she saw in there, but it was enough to send her running from the room. But she did say I was right to think he's done this before. And what will the bastard get? A new life.”

“Serving the community.”

“Life is life, Stephen, whichever way you slice it,” Garibaldi said firmly.

“I know. Believe it or not, I do agree with you on some level, but as a doctor....” Franklin shrugged.

“Life is life,” the security chief repeated. “Any further development on that problem you had?”

“Sort of. It's not as big a problem as I thought. In fact, it could be doing some good,” Franklin said.

Garibaldi looked at him. “Well, that was nice and cryptic. Thanks, Doc.”

He smiled at him. “It's nothing for you to worry about, Michael. I promise.”

“Alright, just make sure it stays that way.” He glanced up at the display and sighed. “I have to go. Mr Mueller has an appointment with a mind wipe.”

Franklin nodded. “I'll see you in med lab.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Though Ivanova knew she should have been working, she kept sneaking glances at Sinclair when he wasn't looking. She wasn't sure why, exactly, but it felt to her like something had changed again between them, for the better this time. Perhaps it was because they had had fun during the training, something which neither of them ever seemed to have time for. It had opened her eyes to what life could be like with Sinclair in the future; maybe if they weren't in Earthforce any more. A glimpse of what a normal, happy life could be with someone she....

_“Garibaldi to C &C.”_

There was a note of urgency in the security chief's voice that Ivanova didn't like and she focused immediately. “C&C online.”

_“We have a problem. Mueller just escaped while we were moving him. He got into a transport tube with one of my guys after he downed him, so he's probably armed,”_ Garibaldi said. _“I think I hit him in the shoulder before the doors closed, though, so if he's wounded, he should be easier to catch.”_

“Do what you have to, Michael, but find him,” Sinclair replied, startling Ivanova. She hadn't heard him approach, his voice next to her ear something she wasn't prepared for.

_“Will do. And I've just had a report of a massive disturbance down in the DarkStar.”_

“We'll scramble a team, Chief, and take care of it. You just find Mueller,” Ivanova told him.

_“Thanks.”_

Ivanova turned to Sinclair. “And this was turning out to be such a nice, quiet day,” she remarked with a dry smile.

“No such thing around here,” he replied in agreement.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“WHAT?!”

Sinclair laughed loudly at Ivanova's reaction. “You heard me.”

“Yes, I did, Commander, I'm just not sure I heard you correctly,” Ivanova replied.

“The cause of the disturbance in the DarkStar was down to two people, it seems. Two people who refused to identify themselves, though I'm not surprised why....”

“And who happen to be Londo and Lennier!”

He grinned. “Exactly.”

“Okay, Ambassador Mollari I can understand, but Mr Lennier??” Ivanova shook her head in utter disbelief. “I'm sorry, I'm just not connecting the dots with that one.”

“Well, maybe I'll have some more information for you after I've seen them both.” Sinclair regarded her for a moment. “Yesterday you were saying that I still owed you for the prank Garibaldi and I pulled on you.”

“Pranks,” Ivanova corrected him. “Yes, I did.”

“How about as at least part payment of that debt, you tell Mr Garibaldi who is responsible for the fight?” Sinclair suggested. “I can guarantee he won't know already as he's been tied up with the Mueller/Rosen case.”

Ivanova stared at him, then a broad grin spread across her face. “That, Commander, is the best suggestion you've had all day.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Franklin looked around in amazement. “I can't believe it's finished. It looks great!”

“I wasn't too sure at first, but I've got to admit, it will be nice for us to have a place to come and relax in without worrying civilians or ambassadors,” Garibaldi said with a smile.

Sinclair nodded, a pleased expression on his face. “The construction crew have outdone themselves.”

“Have you thought of a name yet?” Ivanova asked him.

He shook his head. “Nothing inspiring has come to me.”

The four of them chose a table in the centre of the room and made themselves comfortable. “A real officers' club,” Franklin mused. “What a luxury.”

Garibaldi looked at him, then Ivanova and Sinclair. “Anyone would think he'd been in the trenches for years.”

“Well, being in med lab is pretty similar. I mean, it's remote, I never get invited to the end-of-the-world parties...,” Franklin started dryly.

Garibaldi rolled his eyes. “Oh, give me a break!”

Sinclair laughed and Ivanova grinned. “Believe me, Doctor, you're better off in med lab out of the way,” she said.

Franklin was silent for a while, his expression thoughtful. “I have a question, and I need an answer. Why was I excluded from the Eyes investigation a couple of months ago?”

“Witch hunt,” Garibaldi and Ivanova said simultaneously.

Sinclair silenced them with a look. “Your actions with Shon earlier in the year might not have gone over too well, and the clinic in Downbelow would have been an immediate dismissal with Colonel Ben Zayn. But more than that, Stephen,” he said, leaning forward. “Your work on xenobiology is too important to fall into the wrong hands. Think about it. How much information have you gathered on the alien races here? If Zayn had wanted, he could have seized it all....”

“No offence, Commander, but when are you all going to learn that I don't need protecting?” Franklin asked, a little hotter than he intended.

“When you learn to make better decisions and actually take care of yourself by thinking of those around you,” Garibaldi replied before Sinclair had a chance. “Stephen, I say this in the spirit of friendship – get over yourself. You have a chip on your shoulder the size of this station and it doesn't need to be there. You think you're the only one with something to prove? You're not. Each one of us here does. Try being grateful for what we do instead of resentful.”

Franklin glared and for a moment, Ivanova thought he was going to leave, but eventually she could see his expression softening. “Alright, Michael, you win.”

The security chief smiled. “Good. Now, where's Keffer? I thought you invited him?” he asked Ivanova.

“I did. I don't know where....”

“Sorry I'm late,” the young pilot said breathlessly as he entered the club.

“That's quite alright, Lieutenant,” Sinclair greeted him. “Have a seat.”

“Thanks, Commander. Did I miss anything?”

“Not a thing,” Ivanova told him.

Keffer was aware something important had happened, but he didn't press the issue. He was just glad to be included with the others. “Hey, I heard a great joke today. A Centauri and a Minbari walk into a bar....”

Three of the senior officers groaned and pulled various faces, but Franklin just sighed. “Obviously I'm the one missing something here.”

“How did you find out about that?” Garibaldi asked.

Keffer just shrugged. “It's a small station, Mr Garibaldi. Who doesn't know?”

Franklin put his hand up. “Er, me?”

Ivanova laughed, laid her hand on his arm, and told him about Londo, Lennier, and the DarkStar. “Of course, it's a complete secret which means most of the station knows.” Franklin didn't answer; he was too busy laughing.

“You know, part of me would really love to know what happened, but the other part of me is happy in ignorance,” Sinclair mused, then he too suddenly laughed. “Do you know what Londo said to me when I asked for an explanation?”

Garibaldi shook his head. “No clue. Go on.”

“'I am prepared to give you one, Commander, as soon as the room stops spinning',” he said, in a fair imitation of the Centauri ambassador.

“Did you point out to him that the station creates its own gravity by rotation, and therefore is always spinning?” Ivanova asked slowly. A grin broke out on her face when Sinclair started to laugh again. “You did say that to him.”

“Almost exactly to the letter.”

“Well, what can I say? Great minds, and all that.”

Sinclair lifted his cup. “I'll drink to that.”

Franklin, Garibaldi and Keffer lifted their glasses too. “To Babylon 5, may it never cease to amaze or amuse us,” Keffer said.

“Here here.”

“AirHarts,” the doctor announced suddenly.

Garibaldi stared at him. “Excuse me?”

“A name for this place. AirHarts. I mean, you four are all pilots as well as officers, and we're in space...not quite the same as flying in the old-fashioned sense, but....”

A slow grin broke out on Sinclair's face. “I think it works just fine.”

“So do I,” Ivanova agreed.

“Three for three,” Garibaldi said with a nod.

“Hey, I'm just the guy picking up the tab,” Keffer replied.

Ivanova looked at him. “In that case, Lieutenant, we'll all have another round so we can toast a new beginning. To AirHarts.”

“AirHarts!”

TBC


	24. 122 Chrysalis

_December 2258_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair was actually glad when G'Kar walked out of the conference room, with Londo following moments later. After that, there seemed little point in continuing the discussion, so he called an end to the council meeting, which earned him a look of approval from Delenn. Slowly, everyone filtered out, until only Delenn remained, having dismissed Lennier, and surprisingly, Kosh.

“Was there something you wanted, Ambassador?” Sinclair asked politely, curiously.

Kosh regarded him for a moment, or at least he thought that was what was happening. “No.” Turning, the Vorlon moved effortlessly from the room.

Sinclair stared after him, then shook his head. “Some things never change.” Then he realised Delenn was still present and turned his gaze on her. “Are you alright?”

She nodded, her lips pursed. “The Narn and the Centauri are both being stubborn over this matter, and it is becoming tireless. It is times like this that I wish to...how to say? 'Bang their heads together?'”

Sinclair laughed. “I know what you mean. I suppose I could always ask Mr Garibaldi to lock them in the brig together, diplomatic immunity not withstanding.”

“He does seem rather fond of that punishment,” she replied, remembering when he had threatened to do the same to the Commander and Ivanova.

“There's something else bothering you, Delenn. I can see it in your eyes.” And he could sense it in her, somehow. A reluctance, a trepidation.

Delenn wanted to rebuke him, to tell him it was none of their concern, but the moment she looked into his eyes, she found she couldn't. She still remembered her promise to him some time ago that she would give him answers, and it seemed that moment was now fast approaching. “Things are changing, Commander. For all of us. We are at a turning point, yet I do not know if we are going in the right direction.”

Sinclair nodded. “I've had this feeling lately that we're at a crossroads, and I don't like where we're heading. Before, I thought there was time to change, but now? I'm not so sure.”

“We must keep up hope, Commander,” Delenn replied, laying her hand briefly on his arm before standing. “Good day.”

“Good day, Ambassador,” he said, watching her leave, lost in thought. His link beeped. “Sinclair.”

_“Commander, we've just had a message from Garibaldi, he wants us in med lab right away,”_ Ivanova told him.

“Alright, meet me at the transport tube near C&C.”

“How are the negotiations going?” Ivanova asked when she saw him.

Sinclair rolled his eyes. “I'm thinking of introducing a more primitive method of diplomacy into the council meetings.”

Ivanova raised her eyebrows. “Really? Like what?”

“Giving both parties sticks and letting them fight it out,” he replied dryly.

She tried to laugh but it was unsuccessful. “I think perhaps alcohol would be more appropriate in Ambassador Mollari's case.”

“And G'Kar's.” Sinclair shook his head. “The negotiations are going as well as can be expected when the Narns and Centauri are involved. Did Garibaldi say what the problem was?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Negative, just that he felt it was urgent.”

“I worry when Garibaldi feels things are urgent.”

“I know. And things have been so quiet around here for a while now, I was actually getting used to it.”

They stepped out of the transport tube and walked in silence for a while, until they reached Sinclair's quarters. “I need to change out of this,” he said, gesturing to his dress uniform.

Ivanova just nodded. “Okay.” She clasped her hands behind her back and stopped by the door.

Sinclair stepped inside, then looked over his shoulder in amusement. “You can come in, you know.”

“How do you know I won't take advantage of the situation?” she asked as the door swung shut.

Sinclair stopped in mid-stride and turned slowly to look at her. “Would you?” he replied, his voice low, full of emotion.

Ivanova realised how her words could have been interpreted as soon as she had spoken them, although she meant them in a different way. “I was actually talking about revenge for the pranks you pulled. But,” she said, taking a step towards him as his expression changed, “I could think of something else entirely to do.”

Sinclair's eyes widened comically. This was a side of Ivanova he had never seen before, and he was surprised by her boldness, but also encouraged by it. “I'm sure you could,” he murmured, moving closer to her.

Even though Ivanova knew they were just playing, there was a serious edge to the situation as well, and it would be all too easy to lose themselves in the moment and end up doing something they would both regret. So she smirked, placed her hands on his chest, and gave him a gentle shove backwards. “I wouldn't let you get off the hook so easily, Commander,” she told him in a soft voice.

Sinclair understood what she was doing, and just grinned back. “Sometime, Lieutenant Commander, I don't think you have any plans of revenge at all,” he teased her as he headed into his bedroom to change. “I think you just want me to be on my guard, when in reality you won't do anything to me.”

“We'll see, Commander. We will see,” she retorted, deliberately folding her arms and turning her back on him.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Despite Morden's assurances that the help he was receiving was free, Londo couldn't help but have his doubts. The size and severity of a favour depended entirely on one's point of view, yet although Londo had a bad feeling about all of this, he had agreed to Morden's help; he had, inevitably, put himself at the other man's disposal in the future for whatever 'favour' he could think of. Instead of leaving the garden, Londo remained where he was, thinking that the maze was a good representation of life. He had always been a nobody; even his appointment to Babylon 5 had been a joke. But if Morden could take care of Quadrant 37 for him, then his name would be known to many people; they would speak about him in the royal court, and not just behind their hands. It was what he had always wanted, yet why did he feel so terrible?

Londo questioned the wisdom of his choices, wondered if it was too late to change, to go back.

“Go back to what?” he muttered angrily to himself. “No, it is far too late to change.”

With that, he clasp his hands behind his back and headed out of the garden.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Mr Garibaldi, how's the investigation going?” Ivanova asked as she caught up with him in a corridor.

“I just pulled in the guy who hired Petrov for questioning. That's about it,” he replied in a stressed voice.

“Still no idea who Petrov meant?”

Garibaldi shook his head. “'Him' doesn't give me a whole lot of leads, but I'm thinking it's someone pretty important.”

“What, like one of the ambassadors? The Commander?” she asked.

Garibaldi heard the note of concern in Ivanova's voice that she tried to hide, but didn't call her on it as he'd had the same thought himself. “I don't know. Right now, I wouldn't rule out any of those choices.”

Ivanova nodded, grateful for his honesty. “Listen, I'm glad I found you. The Commander wants us all to have a meal tonight, for New Year's Eve.”

“A meal? All of us? As in...?”

“You, me, Stephen and the Commander,” Ivanova replied in amusement.

Garibaldi's eyebrows shot straight up. “Why?”

“Does he need a reason?”

“Around here....”

“Point taken. Look, that's all I know.”

“Alright,” Garibaldi said after a while. “It'll be a nice change.”

Ivanova smiled at him. “My thoughts exactly. See you later.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Delenn....”

“No, Lennier.”

“But it is almost time.”

“I know.” She sighed, staring at the crystal structure with a mixture of longing, loathing and trepidation. “But I need to see him. I must speak with him before....” She trailed off.

Lennier would have frowned if he could have. “I don't understand why this is so important now.”

Delenn turned to look at him and he was startled by her expression. “Nor should you. But...should things turn out badly, I have left instructions for you. See they are carried out, please.”

He bowed. “Of course. But if it so important for you to see Commander Sinclair, should I not go and get him for you?”

“No. He must come on his own. And he will come, Lennier.” She turned back to the corner where the cocoon was forming. “He must. There are things I must tell him, truths that must be shared. He has to know....”

“If it is meant to be so, Delenn, then he will come,” Lennier assured her. “If not, I will attend to whatever it is you need me to attend to.”

She turned once more and smiled at him. “I know, Lennier. And thank you...for everything.” She swallowed and tried to quell her fears so he wouldn't see. “Now, leave me for a while, please. I am sure you have things to attend to and I need time to think.”

He bowed subserviently. “As you wish, Delenn.”

“And Lennier? Promise me you will not speak to Commander Sinclair,” she told him. “Or Lieutenant Commander Ivanova either. Or any of the other command staff, for that matter. This is something that must happen on its own.”

“I promise.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

After Sinclair had left, G'Kar sat at his desk contemplating the Commander's words. It was strange to him how things had changed in just twelve Earth months; at the start of the year, he and Sinclair could hardly be in the same room as each other without winding each other up, and on more than one occasion the Narn could have killed the Commander, which hadn't fazed Sinclair at all. Then over time, they had grown to known each other and grudgingly respect each other. And now...now it was Sinclair who was giving out words of wisdom to G'Kar, wisdom G'Kar knew in his heart, but couldn't follow with his head or his pride. His people had been fighting the Centauri for so long, they knew nothing else now; they knew no other way. He had a feeling, deep in his bones, that one day someone would have to show them a different path, and he prayed that whoever that Narn was that they would have more wisdom than he did.

Stretching, G'Kar sighed. “It is far too late to change, Commander,” he murmured. “Far too late.”

But he didn't wholly believe that sentiment.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Fresh Air restaurant was decorated in bright ribbons and balloons for the upcoming new year, and the corner where the senior staff of Babylon 5 found themselves was more colourful than the rest of the room. Garibaldi sat at the end of the table, Franklin to his right, with Sinclair to his right, and Ivanova at the other end of the table. The chief of security looked suspiciously at the decorations, then at his old friend, who sat very close to his second-in-command.

“Okay, give.” Sinclair just looked at him, the picture of innocence, but Garibaldi wasn't fooled and leant forward. “All this....” He gestured around them. “A meal, just the four of us...you're going to give us some bad news, aren't you?”

Sinclair actually threw his head back and laughed, and Ivanova couldn't help but grin at seeing him so relaxed. “And you accuse me of being serious all the time; not every conversation has to be the end of the world, Garibaldi.”

As Garibaldi scowled at the Commander, both Ivanova and Franklin realised they were missing some part of the conversation but were having too much fun to care. “Yeah, well, I'm allowed to. It's part of the job description,” the security chief replied.

“Is there something wrong with the four of us having a meal together, as friends?” Sinclair asked him quietly, suddenly turning serious himself. “As a family? Isn't it just enough to celebrate making it through the year in one piece? More or less.”

“I'll drink to that,” Franklin said, raising his glass.

Ivanova nodded. “Me too.”

Garibaldi stared at Sinclair. “That's it? No good news? No bad news? No end of the world speech?”

“Do you want me to give a speech?” the Commander asked.

“Please don't,” Ivanova muttered.

“I'd have to agree,” Franklin added.

Sinclair mock glared at them both before turning his gaze to his old friend. “Michael, we've been through so much this year alone, it's important for us to reflect and spend some time together, especially while it's quiet. Let's make the most of it.”

Ivanova looked at Franklin. “I hate it when he starts talking like a Vorlon.”

The doctor nodded in agreement. “Almost as bad as Mr Garibaldi when he's right.”

“Oh no, there is _nothing_ more annoying than Mr Garibaldi when he's right,” Ivanova said firmly.

Sinclair and Garibaldi looked at each other. “Maybe we should leave them to it,” the Commander suggested.

“Maybe you're right.”

Ivanova looked at Sinclair. “That would spoil all our fun,” she told him seriously, then laughed and bumped his shoulder, leaning against him a little longer than necessary.

Franklin looked at Garibaldi and grinned. “Lighten up, Michael. Enjoy life.”

“You're as bad as he is,” he grumbled, pointing at Sinclair.

“Are we going to spend the rest of the evening bickering?” the Commander asked.

“Yes,” the other three answered.

There was silence for a moment, then they started laughing, the kind that started off slowly but soon built until they were holding their sides breathless, tears rolling down their faces. If the other patrons of the restaurant were bothered by the commotion, they didn't show it. Finally, when they had calmed down, Sinclair raised his glass to make a proper toast.

“To the best officers I've ever served with, and good friends as well,” he said.

The others murmured their agreement and just as their glasses were about to touch, Garibaldi's link beeped. “Never fails.” He rolled his eyes and lifted his hand to his mouth. “This had better be important.”

_“Sir, the prisoners you brought in earlier...they're missing.”_

Immediately, everyone at the table became alert. Garibaldi frowned, his attention focussed on the conversation. “What do you mean, missing?”

_“I just went to check on them, sir, and they're gone.”_

“I'll be right there.” He looked up, his face drawn. “I knew there was something weird about this guy. The PPG I took off him had no ID number at all.”

Ivanova frowned. “Someone removed it?” Consciously or unconsciously, she now sat very close to Sinclair, though he seemed unaware of her proximity.

Garibaldi took a deep breath. “I'm saying it was never there. Only Earthforce special services carry unmarked PPGs.”

“Are you saying this guy is some sort of agent?” Franklin asked.

“I'm saying I don't like this,” he replied, looking at each of them in turn. “I don't like this a whole lot.” He stood, his expression apologetic. “I've got to go. Maybe we can do this another time?”

Sinclair nodded. “Sure. Let us know if you find anything. And Michael?”

“Yeah?”

“Watch your back.”

“Always do.”

Sinclair wasn't sure why he issued the warning, just some gut instinct told him it was necessary. The mood at the table had turned particularly sombre and they knew no amount of talk would restore the levity now. Then he looked at Ivanova, and suddenly Franklin felt uncomfortable in their presence, like he was intruding even though they weren't acting any differently to normal. “I think I'd better head back to med lab,” he said. “There doesn't seem much point in celebrating now.”

Sinclair just nodded. “Thanks for coming anyway, Stephen.” He stood as well and held his hand out. “Happy New Year,” he said as they shook.

Franklin smiled. “And to you. Susan.”

Ivanova smiled warmly at him. “Stephen.”

For a long time after the doctor had left, they just sat in silence, their bodies flush together down one side. The noise of the restaurant suddenly seemed loud and boisterous, a stark contrast to the darkness which suddenly seemed to have enveloped them.

Without warning, Ivanova found Sinclair's hand under the table and squeezed. “It was a good idea, Jeff,” she said. “ A nice idea.”

“Like all good plans, it didn't work out, though, did it?” he replied wryly.

“You should know by now that making any kind of plan in our job, or at least a social plan, is like having a reasonable conversation with a Vorlon.”

He laughed. “True. I just thought....” He shook his head. “I don't know, Susan, I just felt like we needed this time together. I feel like everything's about to change.” He turned to look at her. “I told G'Kar earlier that we are at a crossroads and I don't like the direction we're heading in. And I had a similar conversation with Delenn too. I wonder now if there's any way we can change that direction or if we're committed to this path.”

“It depends on if you believe in fate or destiny, I suppose,” Ivanova replied.

“Do you?”

For a moment, Sinclair thought she wasn't going to answer, until he realised she was collecting her thoughts. But then her expression shifted again and became closed off. She let go of his hand and dropped her napkin on the table. “I think we should call it a night, Commander. I have to go and duty soon, and without Stephen or Michael....”

Sinclair nodded in understanding, trying hard to quench the bitter taste of disappointment. “You're probably right.”

They stood and he followed her out of the restaurant, his hand coming to rest naturally in the small of her back, and he wasn't sure whether it was deliberate or a trick of his imagination but he was sure she leant back into his touch. As they walked down the corridor, he decided it definitely wasn't his imagination as she linked her arm comfortably with his.

“What if someone sees?” he couldn't help but ask.

Ivanova shrugged, unconcerned. “We're off duty, we're friends. It's allowed.” She looked ahead. “I will answer your question about destiny, Jeff, I just didn't want to talk about it in Fresh Air.”

Her answer took him by surprise and he just managed a quiet, “Okay,” in response.

“Do you have time for a drink?”

“Sure.”

Ivanova's quarters were closer and as she poured them a drink, Sinclair removed his jacket and undid a couple of buttons on his shirt, sitting on one of the couch and watching as she sat at the other. “I never believed in fate or destiny, because how could the things that have happened to me and my family have been planned?” Ivanova started without preamble. “I don't believe there is a God, or a Great Maker, out there somewhere controlling what we do. I believe it's our choices in the here and now which determine our futures. No one can predict what will happen; it isn't set in stone.” She paused and then looked him straight in the eye. “At least that's what I used to believe.”

“And now?” Sinclair asked softly.

Ivanova took a few deep breaths to calm her nerves, unaware Sinclair was doing the same. Suddenly it was obvious that the conversation which had been hovering around them all year was about to happen, the need to address something neither of them could deny or explain.

“That's what I used to believe,” she repeated, “Until I met you. The first time I saw you, it was like being sucked into a black hole. I've never felt that kind of connection with anyone – or anything, for that matter – before, and to be honest, it scared the hell out of me. Whenever I look at you, I get the feeling we've known each other forever, that we're somehow linked, and suddenly, I believe in fate.” She swallowed, tears suddenly standing bright in her eyes. “But destiny has a twisted sense of humour, I think. Because why would She show us that we seem destined to be together, yet put our duty in the way of that relationship? A duty neither of us are willing to give up.” She sighed raggedly. “Dammit, Jeff, why can't we have everything?”

Sinclair wanted nothing more than to reach over and pull her into his arms, to throw the regs out of the nearest airlock and kiss all her troubles away. But he didn't, he couldn't. It wouldn't have been fair on either of them; they'd had their share of moments, but it just wasn't the right time for anything more serious. But he also couldn't sit back and do nothing. Stretching one arm along the back of the sofa, he reached for her, his hand shaking with repressed emotion, and Ivanova gripped his fingers gratefully.

“The reason I didn't want to bring this up,” she continued in a choked voice, “Is because I thought I was the only one who felt this way. I know we shared a kiss, but that could have been put down to the situation, and despite everything else, I didn't want to allow myself to believe, to have faith that.... Tell me I'm wrong, Jeff. Tell me I've been imagining all this. Tell me....”

“The only thing I can tell you, Susan, is the truth,” Sinclair replied, his own voice just as hoarse. “And the truth is...I've felt the same way since I first saw you. When Catherine came back into my life, I gave it a chance because you and I could never be, but I was wrong. My heart...and my soul...wanted you. They still do, and I feel like they always have.”

“But we can't.”

“No, we can't. But let me ask you this; do the regs stop you from caring about me? If we were to have a relationship, would it change the way you do your job, Susan?”

“You mean would I shout at you less or more when you did stupid things if things were different between us?” She seemed less upset and more amused now, which Sinclair was glad about. “No. It wouldn't change a thing. I care about you, nothing can ever change that.”

“Likewise.”

“So what do we do now?”

Sinclair shifted his focus to the back of Ivanova's hand, where his thumb was making lazy patterns on the skin. “We just see how things go. As long as we don't break any regulations, and keep it discreet, I don't think it matters how we act. Do you?”

Ivanova thought about it for a moment, then shook her head. “If this is fate, then it will happen no matter what we try to do, right?”

“Right.”

“What about the others? Stephen? Michael? Especially Michael.”

Sinclair pulled a face. “Michael has already spoken to me more than a couple of times this year about my feelings for you.”

“He has?”

“He has also given his blessing, in not so many words.”

“Meaning he won't turn us in.”

“Yeah.”

“That's something.”

Sinclair glanced over at the display, and then back at Ivanova with some reluctance. “I should go. You have your shift soon, and I want to change back into my uniform. I want to be ready in case something happens.”

“You think it will?” Ivanova asked as they stood.

“Michael seems to think so, and he's not usually wrong about things like this,” Sinclair replied as he retrieved his jacket. “I'll see you in C&C in a while.”

Ivanova nodded. “In case I don't see you, or things turn nuts as Mr Garibaldi has predicted...happy new year, Jeff.”

Sinclair smiled, then leant down and kissed her cheek. “Happy new year, Susan.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

It was quite possibly the quietest shift Ivanova had ever known and for that, she was glad. The conversation she had earlier with Sinclair had left her in a state of happy turmoil and she was having trouble putting everything back in the boxes they belonged. He had all but suggested they take their relationship further, while remaining discreet and not breaking any rules....just how the hell was that supposed to work, she wondered? But they seemed to have managed the last year without any problems, so to speak, so why would the future be any different? Ivanova sighed as the last crew member left the command deck and she turned to the console, intent on watching the President's flight to take her mind off things. She knew what the problem was; she liked things to be defined, didn't like any kind of blurriness in her life, yet she had both in equal measure and it was driving her insane. Shaking her head, Ivanova leant back in her chair and put her feet up on the railing, forcing herself to relax, and watch the ISN feed.

When the door opened and then closed again, she didn't bother turning round to see who it was, didn't look curiously into the reflection of the dome glass to identify the person. It didn't matter who it was. Until she felt hands coming to rest on her shoulders and a deep voice chuckling as she jumped almost to her feet.

“Oh, think that's funny, do you?” she said to Sinclair, glaring at him as she sat back down.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you,” he replied, his hands still on her shoulders.

“Well, you did,” was the best reply Ivanova could manage as she was distracted by his fingers working her muscles. “I thought you were supposed to be off duty,” she said after a while.

“I am.”

“Really?”

Sinclair hesitated. “I missed you.”

“You just saw me an hour ago, Commander.”

“I know, but....”

Ivanova turned around, her face sombre. “This is not discreet, and this is a definite change. What is it, Jeff? What's going on?”

Sinclair lowered his gaze, then hunkered down in front of her. “I don't know, Susan. I just feel this...darkness is approaching, that we're going to be buried beneath it before long and I don't know how to fight it, or even if we can. I feel that big changes are coming, and not all of them for the better.” He paused. “I feel like I'm standing on the edge of a pit, about to fall in, and there's nothing to stop me.”

He bowed his head and Ivanova could sense the stress and despair coming from him, feelings she wasn't used to seeing in him. Without thinking, she put her hands on either side of his head, threading her fingers gently through his hair. “I'll save you,” she whispered. “I will never let you fall.”

Slowly, Sinclair relaxed, until he finally reached up and took her hands in his, lifting his head and gazing deeply into her face. “Susan....”

It was the right moment, the perfect timing without any desperation involved, and they moved together, meeting in the middle as they often did. It was a soft and gentle kiss which lingered with promise and faith.

“No matter what happens, I am grateful to have you in my life,” Sinclair murmured as they parted. “Thank you.”

“Ditto, Jeff.” Ivanova caressed his cheek. “And thank you. For everything.”

Just then, a console beeped. His eyes lingered on her face for a while longer until he finally stood up straight, going to investigate the noise. “What the...?”

“What is it?” she asked, catching the concern in his voice.

Sinclair looked over his shoulder. “We're getting reports that the Narn outpost in Quadrant 37 has been...attacked.”

“Attacked?”

He nodded. “I'd better go and talk to G'Kar, and maybe Londo as well. See if they have any more information. And I want to check in with Garibaldi, see how things are going.”

“About time you did some work,” Ivanova retorted before turning her attention back to the viewer.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

The moment Garibaldi realised that the frequency on the transmitter was set for the Gold Channel frequency of Earthforce One, he knew what was going to happen, realised just who Petrov had been talking about, and it was a sickening thought that if he didn't act quickly, whoever was behind all this would actually get their way. Contacting Sinclair, he didn't give him any details, though a small voice in the back of his mind screamed at him to say something. Leaving Jack to guard the boxes, Garibaldi headed out of the docking area.

He didn't get far. In front of him were the guys he had arrested, who had subsequently escaped. In front of him was the enemy.

He never thought to look behind him.

Didn't heed the warning to watch his back.

As the searing pain of a PPG blast hit him, Garibaldi tasted the bitterness of failure more acutely than he felt the agony of being shot in the back as he crumpled to the ground. Because he knew there was no way they could save the President now.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair was halfway to the ambassadorial wing when he received Garibaldi's urgent message, and quickly he doubled back. Ivanova took one look at his expression when he strode onto the command deck and launched to her feet. “What is it?”  
“Garibaldi's called for an ultraviolet alert,” Sinclair said. “He sounded pretty tense on the link. Whatever he's found out, it's big.”

“Do you think it has something to do with whoever Petrov said was going to be killed?” Ivanova asked.

“Possibly.”

She regarded him silently for a moment, choosing her words carefully. “Commander, do you think Petrov could have been talking about you? Maybe the Homeguard has decided you're too pro-alien. Or Bester....”

Sinclair stared at her and the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. “That had never crossed my mind, to be honest. I'm not important enough, Lieutenant Commander.”

Ivanova reached for his hand. “You are to me,” she said quietly. “But I know what you mean. Where are you meeting Garibaldi?”

“In the briefing room.”

“Keep me posted?”

“Of course.”

But after the appointed time had arrived and departed, there was no sign of Garibaldi and Sinclair began to worry. Without waiting too long, he headed out of the room and down the corridor, raising his link to mouth as he walked.

“Sinclair to C&C.”

_“C &C online.”_

“Garibaldi never showed up. I'm going to see if I can find him. Don't worry,” he said, knowing what Ivanova was thinking. “I won't take any chances at all. Not this time.”

But the security chief wasn't in his office, wasn't in med lab, the mess hall, or the Zocalo. In fact, he was nowhere to be found. Desperation seeping into his soul, Sinclair checked Garibaldi's quarters and finally reached his own, only to find it empty as well. Closing his eyes, he placed his hands on the table for support and bowed his head.

“Please let him be okay,” he murmured to whatever deity might have been listening. “Don't let anything happen to him. Not Michael.”

Despite her earlier words to Lennier, despite making him promise not to approach any of the command staff, especially Sinclair, Delenn found she could not keep to the same rules. She was rapidly running out of time and it was obvious to her that he would not come to her of his own accord. She had not wanted to confront him, had not been willing to make the first move, but after her conversation with Kosh, after it became obvious that she had no choice in what was to happen next, Delenn knew that she had to be brave; she knew she had to go to Sinclair and tell him everything she could. It would not be the complete truth, but it would be better than nothing.

The door to his quarters was open, which surprised her, but then she saw Sinclair, standing hunched over the table, his back to her. Even from a distance, she could tell her was tired and worn, and she almost turned away. But he must have sensed her approach because he straightened and started to talk before he turned.

“Michael, where the hell...?” Sinclair stopped speaking when he saw who had entered his quarters.

“Hello, Commander,” Delenn said in a soft voice, stepping forwards to allow the door to swing shut.

As they stared at each other, both became aware they too were at a turning point, that no matter what happened next, nothing would be the same between them again. Sinclair found he couldn't speak, couldn't be his usual diplomatic self. All he wanted to say was 'why?' He wanted to know how Delenn could be a party to torture, to torturing him, and then turn around and become his friend.

“I believe you recognise this,” she said, breaking the silence and revealing a triluminary.

Sinclair flinched involuntarily, memories of his time at the hands of the Minbari coming back to him in fragments, like shards of ice piercing his soul. Yet on another level, one he couldn't connect with, he felt a sense of peace and homecoming when he looked at the object.

Delenn saw his raw pain and felt her heart grow heavy. “You remember, don't you.”

“Pieces. Bits here and there, but nothing...nothing solid,” Sinclair replied. “I haven't quite put it all together yet.”

“I suspected as much. How long?”

“Earlier this year. When I was captured by the Knights, the drugs they used on me started the process of breaking the walls down, but I haven't got all my memories back yet. I know that you captured me, tortured me, and held that...thing up in front of me. It glowed.” Sinclair took a deep, ragged breath. “And I know you were there, Delenn. I know that you are Satai, one of the Grey Council. I found that out when the Soul Hunters visited us at the start of the year.”

Delenn drew a short, sharp breath, her surprise showing clearly on her face. She suspected he knew a lot, she just didn't realise just how close to the truth he was. And yet she knew there was no turning back; if the truth was told, she didn't want to either. “I can help you.”

Sinclair shook his head. “Why now, Delenn? Why not before? Were you in some kind of danger?”

“Perhaps. But not as much as you, Commander. This is more complicated than perhaps you realise.” She sighed. “Why now? Because now is the time. I will give you the answers you seek, as I promised I would.”

He was tempted. He needed to know what happened to him, needed to know why the Minbari surrendered so suddenly, but now just wasn't right. “We can't find Garibaldi,” he told her suddenly, in an anguished voice.

Delenn nodded slowly. “I understand. Come to my quarters when you are ready. But, Commander...do not wait too long.” She turned, but paused in the doorway. “I hope you find Mr Garibaldi. He is a good man and I would not like for something to happen to him.”

Sinclair's voice was heavy with emotion when he replied, “Neither would I.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

G'Kar stared back at his reflection, trying to ascertain what he was feeling. The news that Na'toth had brought him was shocking. So many of their ships, so many of their people, slaughtered without a trace. The Centauri couldn't pull off such a daring attack, and the Minbari had no cause. Only the Vorlons were strong enough, but why would they bother? It was a mystery, one he intended to get to the bottom of.

Looking around his quarters, G'Kar thought about the people he would be leaving behind. Did he have cause to talk to any of them before he went? No. And would any of them miss him when he was gone? Probably not. Besides, it was what needed to be done.

But not just yet. There were things he needed to do on Babylon 5 before heading out on his journey.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Valen said this day would come. Who are we to stand in the way of prophecy?” Delenn murmured as she put the final pieces to the machine.

Lennier expressed his doubts and at the back of her mind, Delenn shared them. But if she did not believe in this, then what was her life about? But at that specific moment in time, another question burned in her mind. How did Valen know what would come to pass a thousand years in his future? She had always wondered about that, and again as she stood watching the machine make the chrysalis, she thought about it again. What kind of special abilities did he have that enabled him to see into the future? Or was it possible he was living in this time now, observing everything that was happening, in order to relay it as prophecy when he travelled back in time?

Delenn shook her head. It was too fantastical for even her to believe. And yet there was no denying that Valen was correct about many things so far.

“If he comes, it must be soon,” she said in desperation, Sinclair's face filling her mind's eye.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

What a way to start the new year, Franklin thought grimly as he focussed on preparing Garibaldi for operating. As soon as the security chief had been rushed into med lab, the doctor had closed off his emotions and willed himself into the most professional, unfeeling place he could find. It wasn't that he didn't care, but if he allowed himself to think properly about exactly whose life was at stake, it was possible he would make mistakes. He knew how important Garibaldi was to the station, to Sinclair in particular, and even Ivanova...and to himself. If he failed to save him....

Franklin shook his head and concentrated on the task ahead of him, glad that Sinclair hadn't tried to get in the way or tell him how to do his job. In fact, the Commander had acted like the soldier and officer he was. Franklin had seen the torn look on his face, torn between duty and staying with his friend, but it was clear Sinclair also knew he would just be in the way. The doctor wondered if they had managed to get through to Earthforce One or any of the joint chiefs...or anyone else, for that matter. To imagine someone would try to assassinate the President...it was unthinkable. And if Sinclair ever found out who had shot Garibaldi.... Franklin shuddered a little. The Commander had looked fit for chewing asteroids when he realised how badly the chief had been hurt, and the doctor had been on the receiving end of his temper, had heard many rumours about what happened when Sinclair lost control. There was a thought that perhaps Ivanova could reign him in, but in reality, she would probably insist on joining in. And in that moment, Franklin would have been tempted to throw his weight behind them as well. His friendship with Garibaldi, and with Sinclair and Ivanova too, was growing well, and he didn't take lightly to his friends being injured.

Although he had ordered no interruptions, no matter what, Franklin couldn't help but wonder just what was happening out there.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

When Sinclair strode onto the command deck, Ivanova knew something else was wrong. His message to her over the link just moments before had been terse and angry. “The President is in danger,” he had said. “Raise anyone and everyone you can on the communications channel. Do whatever you have.”

“We haven't been able to get through,” Ivanova told him as he neared her, trying to remain calm.

He was anything but calm; in fact, he was a nanosecond from boiling over completely. “Get the ISN feed up, and keep trying to get hold of someone. We have to warn them.”

Ivanova turned in her chair, aware of Sinclair's hand on the back of it, his knuckles deliberately touching her shoulder blades. “Is it the President? The one Petrov was talking about?” She had guessed already, but she had to ask. Had to be sure.

Sinclair nodded grimly. “Yes,” was all he said.

“I can't believe someone would try something like that,” Ivanova said, shaking her head.

His fingers found her shoulder, but before he could speak, before he could move, ISN showed Earthforce One exploding. The silence on the command deck was deafening. Sinclair felt his world contract and then explode as well, all of his senses shutting down, and beneath his fingers, he felt Ivanova shaking as she started crying. He was aware of the rest of the crew looking at him in disbelief, wanting confirmation from him about what they had just seen and reassurance that everything would be okay. He knew it was a time for speeches, to rally the crew, but he found he had no words. He was numb, inside and out.

After repeating the order to shut ISN off, Sinclair looked down at Ivanova. “My office. Now.”

The harsh summons took her completely by surprise and as she trailed him off the command deck, she wondered what she could be getting reprimanded for. But instead of heading to his desk, Sinclair went straight to the sofa and put his head in his hands. “Commander...,” Ivanova started questioningly.

“Michael's been shot,” he blurted out.

Ivanova's jaw dropped at the same time her legs gave way and she collapsed onto the sofa next to him. “What? When? Who?”

“Not long ago. In the back. Stephen's working on him now, but.... It's touch and go, Susan.”

She wanted to touch him, comfort him and support him, but didn't. Not yet, anyway. Maybe later, when the dust had settled a little, literally and figuratively. Maybe then they could release their emotions. But not now. “Do you think it's linked to the death of President Santiago?”

“I'm sure of it.” He stood abruptly. “I'm going to post a guard detail in med lab, and I'll be down there as well, once I've talked to the Senate.”

“We'll split the time,” Ivanova told him, also getting to her feet. “Four hour shifts. No arguing, Jeff.”

But Sinclair just nodded. “Thank you, Susan.”

“Is there anything special you want me to do?”

“Just carry on as normal,” he said.

As he walked away, she couldn't help but think he looked like a man carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. She just hoped the Senate would listen to him.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

The Senate didn't listen.

G'Kar had disappeared.

Delenn had also disappeared, in a manner of speaking.

And Garibaldi was on the brink of life and death.

Franklin was trying not to lose hope, but he wasn't winning the battle.

And Ivanova felt like there was no point in fighting any more for anything.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair ran a hand over his jaw and grimaced at the stubble covering it. Had it really been so long since he had shaved? Had it really been so long since that morning? How could a day go from starting off so well to ending so badly? He stared into his glass, thinking he should be feeling something but was numb from the inside out. The Zocalo was quiet, apart from the cleaning crews, and from the looks of things, the parties down there had been well enjoyed by all in attendance. Sinclair wasn't sure he would ever feel joy again; with everything that had happened, his mind was a jumbled mess worse than he could ever remember. He still couldn't believe the events of the day, nor could he shake the foreboding feeling that the worst was yet to come. 

Then he felt something, like the hairs on the back of his neck standing up but more powerful, a sixth sense he couldn't explain and he turned around to see Kosh. “Ambassador?” he said in surprise.

“You have forgotten,” Kosh said.

Sinclair's expression was confused. “Forgotten? What do you...?” Then his eyes widened as he realised. “Delenn!”

But before he could take off for the Minbari's quarters, Kosh nodded to him and it seemed such a familiar ritual greeting that Sinclair froze in the act of getting off his stool. By the time he had shaken his confusion, Kosh had disappeared, and he raced down the corridors, the incident all but forgotten.

“You are too late,” Lennier told him, his voice brimming with mixed emotions.

Sinclair almost sank to his knees, the missed opportunity to talk to Delenn almost more than he could take. She was going to tell him something greatly important; she was going to ease his mind once and for all about what happened at the Battle of the Line, of that much he was certain. And now? Now he didn't know if the chance would ever arise again.

“Is she...in there?” Sinclair asked in hushed tones, gesturing softly to the cocoon.

“Yes.”

He moved carefully past Lennier, who made no move to stop him, and came within inches of the shell. Suddenly he was on the other side, looking out...he was changing...becoming.... Almost as if in a trance, Sinclair slowly turned away, his gaze falling on bright colours of crystal on the table, and he was transfixed by the structure. And he felt he knew how to build it, knew each piece of crystal intimately as though he had crafted them himself, knew what Delenn was going through but didn't know what she would become in the end.

And then he looked at Lennier, who was still gazing at Delenn, and he knew what lay in the young Minbari's heart too. Sinclair wanted to say something to him, wanted to offer comfort or advice, wanted to speak mere words for the sake of speaking them. But he didn't, couldn't. Instead, he simply put his hands together in ritual Minbari greeting and bowed to Lennier, who acknowledged the gesture with a simple nod of his head. Silently, Sinclair slipped from Delenn's quarters.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

They were only Narns, Londo kept telling himself, repeating the litany until he hoped he believed it to be true. But he couldn't swallow it, couldn't accept what had happened, what he himself had caused. He had seen his future clearly; crossroads had awaited him, choices he could have made, and now he was certain he had chosen the wrong path. And then he received the news of Garibaldi and Londo knew that everything was changing. He knew nothing would be the same again and it pained him in a way he never thought possible. Which was why he found himself heading towards med lab.

Ivanova hadn't moved at all from her sentry outside the isolation room. She had never felt more helpless in her life than she did in that moment, praying to a God she never believed in, to a Great Maker she had never had faith in, to help her friend, to bring Garibaldi back to them. She hadn't spoken to Sinclair at all since he had given her the news about the chief, since they had watched Earthforce One explode together. No words of comfort or anger from or for either of them. Not even when she relieved him a little while ago. And so when the doors to med lab opened, when all the staff had left and the person coming in could only be a visitor, Ivanova thought it was Sinclair returning; Londo was the last person she expected to see.

“I just heard. How is he?” the Centauri asked quietly, respectfully.

“No change. All we can do now is hope...and pray,” Ivanova replied, not looking at him.

“I see.” Londo stood thoughtfully for a while. “And you have been here all this time?”

“I just relieved him. He'll be back on watch in four hours,” she told him. “We don't want him to be alone.”

There was a catch in her voice when she mentioned Sinclair, though Londo was certain Ivanova didn't even know she had sounded any different, and in a rare moment of clarity, he realised she needed to be somewhere else, but duty and loyalty bound her to stay.

“I will watch him, Lieutenant Commander,” Londo said. “Mr Garibaldi is perhaps one of the few on this station I would call a friend, though he is an annoying man. I will not leave him alone. Go. You need to be somewhere, yes?”

Ivanova was about to object when she realised he was right, though more accurately, there was someone she needed to see. “Yes, I do. Thank you, Ambassador.”

Londo just nodded and didn't watch her go. He was lost in his own thoughts; Garibaldi had people how cared about him, but if he, Londo, should be in such a situation, who would be there for him?

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

It was late, or early, when Sinclair finally entered his own quarters. He desperately wanted to tell the computer to hold all his messages for a week, but he knew that even asking that for a few hours was impossible with what had happened, just like getting a good night's uninterrupted sleep. Walking into his bedroom, he tried to shrug out of his jacket, tugging wearily at the sleeves, his mind anywhere but on the task. He gazed longingly at his bed, wanting nothing more than to just fall into it as he was, but he knew come the morning, he would only feel worse.

Some fresh proper coffee – from Ivanova's private stash - a hot shower and a change of clothes would put him in a somewhat more relaxed mood, but got no further than undoing the first couple of buttons on his shirt when the chimes to his quarters sounded. Sinclair sighed.

“Come,” he said, his head bowed, unable and unwilling to meet the eyes of whoever had just entered.

At first he thought it might have been Franklin, come to deliver bad news about Garibaldi. Then he thought perhaps it was Lennier, come to deliver bad news about Delenn, because whoever it was hadn't uttered a sound yet. A cold shiver slipped down Sinclair's spine and he wondered if Catherine was his visitor, even though she was supposed to be out on the rim somewhere. He knew he hadn't seen the last of her yet.

A scent, faint but achingly familiar, came to him, and he was aware someone had entered his bedroom. There was only one person who would think of invading his personal space in such a way at a time like that and slowly he looked up. Bright blue, red-rimmed eyes stared back at him.

“Is...?”

Ivanova shook her head. “Everything's the same as it was before. I just...I had to see you.” She dropped her voice. “I _needed_ to see you.”

Sinclair straightened and nodded. “I was just about to make some coffee. Would you like a drink?”

“Usually I would say no, but I doubt I'll sleep tonight anyway,” Ivanova replied.

He nodded again in understanding and headed to the kitchen, brushing past her as he left the bedroom. He faltered as he felt her reaching for him, her arm stopping before it reached him. His body facing forward, Sinclair turned his head, his eyes locking with hers.

“Are you okay?” he murmured.

Ivanova shook her head. “With everything going on, I just needed to be with you, just for a little while.” She sniffed as tears threatened to spill over. “I feel like it's all falling apart, not just things on the station, but...us as well.”

“I'm still here. I'm not going anywhere,” Sinclair told her firmly. “Come on, let's get some coffee. Are you hungry?”

“Even if I was, I don't think I could eat anything,” Ivanova replied as she followed him to the kitchen area.

They sat and drank in silence for a while, brief pockets of discussion kept to what was likely to happen with Clark in charge, the disappearance of G'Kar, the 'absence' of Delenn, and Garibaldi's condition. Both knew they were repeating themselves; neither cared. Things needed to be gone over many times before they could begin to accept what had happened, never mind understand it. Eventually, though, Ivanova read the utter defeat and bone weariness in Sinclair's eyes and stood, intent on letting him at least try and get some rest.

“Thank you for the coffee and the company, Commander.”

“Any time, Lieutenant Commander.” Usually, when they were alone, her use of his rank bothered him, but he understood the need for order from her at that time.

Ivanova hesitated. “I should go.” She turned but hadn't taken a step when she felt strong fingers gently grasping her wrist.

“Stay,” Sinclair said quietly. “I'm not asking for anything, but I don't want to be alone. I've spent too much time alone and with everything that's gone on lately....”

Ivanova, now facing him, nodded in understanding and laced her fingers with his, tugging him into movement and he didn't resist, all but collapsing on the sofa, his head falling back. She sat next to him, flush down one side, her head coming to rest on his chest just beneath his shoulder, their hands still joined.

“It's all changed,” Sinclair murmured. “The President murdered and we couldn't stop it. Michael....” His voice gave out on him and Ivanova squeezed his hand, her other arm reaching over his waist. “I never got a chance to talk to Delenn.”

“She won't be in her cocoon forever, though...will she?” Ivanova asked.

Sinclair shrugged carefully. “I don't know. I guess I can't help thinking I only had the one chance to talk to her...one chance for her to tell me what she wanted to.”

There was nothing Ivanova could say to that, so instead she held him closer, sighing when he moved to wrap his arms around her. There were no words of comfort either could offer the other, only the comfort of being there, of not being alone.

“Nothing's the same any more,” Sinclair said after a while, his deep voice full of sorrow.

Moving slightly, Ivanova looked up at him, pained by the depth of emotion in his eyes, and without much thought, she leant up and kissed his jaw before moving back into the protection of his arms. Neither of them uttered another word until the morning. After all, what was there to say?

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so I find myself at the end of Season 1...finally!! There is so much going on in this episode, I wanted to do it justice without babbling on too much. Obviously we're definitely heading into AU territory from here on out...just thought I'd mention it again. ;) Anyway, thanks to everyone who has read this and left kudos. :) Hope it's still working for everyone!


	25. 123 S1-S2 Bridge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took some doing, so I hope it works okay. Also uses part of S2 Ep1 'Points of Departure' at the end as it worked better.

_January 2259_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair froze when he heard the chimes. He had been expecting the sound; in fact, he was surprised it hadn't come sooner. Of course there was a chance he was mistaken about who was outside, but his intuition very rarely let him down. Besides, two of the few who would visit him were...indisposed at that time.

“Come,” he said wearily, his hands unwilling to start moving again despite the commands from his brain. They remained frozen in the process of folding a shirt, hovering over the bag containing his meagre belongings.

The door to his quarters opened and then closed again, the only sign someone had entered being the soft sound of footfalls. Sinclair waited for her to speak, though he should have known she wouldn't, just as he should have known she would have found out what was happening sooner rather than later; a part of him wondered if she knew before he did. But when the silence became oppressive, he forced himself to look up and immediately hated what he saw; it was clear from her red puffy eyes and the wet tracks on her cheeks that Ivanova had been crying.

“When were you going to tell me? Were you going to even talk to me before you left?” she demanded to know, and Sinclair couldn't help but wince at her tone.

Sighing, he finally placed the shirt in the bag, but still didn't straighten up, as though putting off the action would delay him leaving. Instead he let his eyes drop to a triangular pendant half-hidden by clothing, placing his hands flat on the bed. “Of course,” he replied, his voice hoarse as though it hadn't been used for a while.

Silence descended once more, and when it was finally broken, Sinclair almost jumped out of his skin. “When?” Ivanova asked, her voice soft now, and right beside him.

“When I had gotten my own head around it all.” A shaky hand found his shoulder and gripped it for a few seconds, but before she could remove it, Sinclair covered it with his own. “I'm sorry, Susan. Sorry I didn't tell you myself, sorry you had to find out some other way. And I'm sorry it has to end this way.”

Ivanova smiled a little. “Jeff, only you could think that this was somehow your fault. Who was it?”

“General Hague.”

Ivanova's eyes widened. “Really? They're really serious about this, then.” Her tone indicated she thought – she had been hoping - it had been some sort of joke, but now she realised it was no such thing.

The order had come through three days after President Santiago had died, though Sinclair felt that his transfer off the station had been decided before the dust from the wreckage of the President's transport had settled. Though perhaps that was the reason he was being sent back; so he wouldn't cause a panic, so they could keep an eye on him. It was the perfect way to start the new year, he had thought grimly. The station was in enough disarray as it was: the Earthforce personnel were reeling from what had happened; G'Kar had disappeared and even Na'Toth had no clue as to his whereabouts; Lennier was watching over Delenn while she was in some sort of cocoon; and Franklin was busy trying to save Garibaldi's life. The last thing Sinclair expected, wanted or needed was a communication from General Hague, and he certainly didn't expect to be ordered to return to Earth immediately, and without explanation. It gutted him to think it was all going to end in such a way. But nothing hurt so much as the thought of having to leave Ivanova behind. The only up side he could see was the fact they were no longer in the same chain of command and could pursue a relationship if they wanted...providing he wasn't posted somewhere so far away that even Garibaldi wouldn't be able to find him.

“How did you find out?” Sinclair asked, eventually straightening and allowing their hands to fall from his shoulder.

“Stephen told me,” Ivanova replied. “He overheard you talking to Michael.”

Sinclair smiled and rolled his eyes. “Figures.”

“You do realise that Mr Garibaldi will be as mad as hell when he wakes up, don't you?” she said, trying to lighten the mood. She had known all along it was just too much to hope she could be happy for a change. She'd had the same thoughts about them not being in the same chain-of-command and a relationship; she also knew the chances of that actually happening were as likely as Londo and G'Kar ever being friends and drinking together.

“Yes. I do,” he replied, startling her from her reverie.

When Ivanova squeezed his hand, Sinclair jumped a little, not realising they were still linked, and from the expression on her face and the feeling in his heart, it was in more than just a physical way. “It's our duty, Commander. We do what we are told.” She let go then, as if to emphasise her point, and he felt something akin to physical pain in his chest.

“I know. Doesn't mean we have to like it, though.”

In that moment, she wanted to cling to him, to ask him to make her any number of promises, to ask him to tell her anything that would ease the pain she was feeling too. But instead, she opened her mouth to make a quip in reply, but found none was forthcoming and so opted for duty, or for running away, if she was honest with herself. “I should leave you to your packing, Commander.” Ivanova nodded once and made to leave.

She didn't make it passed him. Strong fingers gripped her wrist, pulling her to him as he stood up straight, bringing their bodies half-flushed together. “Susan....”

But she shook her head, sensing what was to come. “Don't. Not now, not like this. If you come back....”

“ _When_ ,” Sinclair corrected her, half-annoyed, half-amused, and completely hopeful.

But Ivanova just stared at him hard. “If or when you return, we can discuss things then. But don't leave me hanging, Jeff, and please don't ask me to wait.”

“I would never do either. You have to know me better than that. But you should also know....” Words stuck in his throat and he closed his eyes, hoping it would hide the pain. His head moved forwards of its own accord, but he stopped before he could kiss her. When Sinclair finally opened his eyes, Ivanova was staring at him, willing his lips to touch hers and at the same time hoping he wouldn't kiss her. Swallowing and with the faintest lingering caress on her wrist, he let her go.

“I do,” she murmured. “I do.” With a swallow and a tug of her uniform, Ivanova was once more in control, more or less. “Do you have any instructions regarding your absence, Commander?”

“Try not to blow the station up, Lieutenant Commander,” Sinclair replied, straight-faced.

“Yes, sir. No boom this year, boom next year.”

“No boom at all would be preferable.”

“But highly unlikely.” Nodding once more, she turned smartly on her heel, only to be stopped again before the door opened, this time by his voice.

“Susan. Try not to be so hard on whoever takes over.”

It was a command and a plea rolled into one, mixed with so many emotions she couldn't have separated them if she had wanted to. She didn't turn to look at him, didn't need to. “I will do my best, Commander.” And then she was gone.

Sinclair sat down heavily on the bed and realised he was shaking. He had needed more from Ivanova than he had received during her visit, but he knew he couldn't have asked for anything. He longed to go after her, to hold her until his body ached, to kiss her until they ran out of air, but he didn't. He couldn't. He was bound by duty and honour, and in that moment he hated it all. After Catherine, he had finally allowed himself to believe he might get another chance at happiness. And now the rug had been pulled out from under his feet. Sinking his head into his hands, Sinclair mourned the friends he was certain he would never see again, the things he would never get to say to some of them, and the place which had been home to him for so long.

With his head in his hands, Sinclair cried.

Outside, unbeknownst to him, Ivanova was leaning against the wall, attempting somewhat in vain to regain her composure, the composure she certainly didn't have at any time during her visit with the Commander, no matter how she might have looked. She was trying to stop herself from doing something stupid, like walking back into his quarters and holding onto him for the rest of her life. Like begging him to stay. Like kissing him senseless and not stopping there.... But she didn't. She just stayed there, close to him without him knowing, trying to compose herself and failing. Covering her face with her hands, Ivanova's face creased in agony from the raw emotion she was feeling, because despite asking him not to ask her to wait, she knew damn well she was going to do just that, no matter how long it took or what happened in the meantime.

With her hands covering her face, hiding her from the world, Ivanova wept.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

When General Hague entered his office, he could tell immediately that the meeting would require some delicate handling. Commander Sinclair stood rigidly, arms held stiffly at his sides; it didn't take much of an imagination or great skills in observation to see he was having trouble stopping himself from clenching his fists. Inwardly, Hague smiled; it was a good job he had planned this whole situation down to the last letter, and although he couldn't make it seem that way, handling Sinclair was going to be easy. His other meeting, however, could not possibly go the same way.

“Commander Sinclair, good to see you,” Hague said, saluting. “Please, have a seat. Sorry to have kept you waiting. I trust your journey was uneventful?”

Sinclair sat, the muscle in his jaw twitching. “With all due respect, sir, can we dispense with the pleasantries? If I am to be reassigned, then I would appreciate being told immediately. Or at least given an explanation as to why I was recalled so suddenly.”

Hague held his gaze and was still impressed by what he saw there. He knew this was the man he wanted for the job, but _President_ Clark disagreed, and the General could guess at his reasons why. This game they were all now involved in required a lot of thought and caution, but Sinclair deserved the truth, or at least some of it.

“Very well, Commander. President Clark wishes to assign someone more...suitable to Babylon 5, especially with the present charged climate. He believes that although you have done an excellent job, a more seasoned soldier is needed, someone with more combat experience, and also experience in exploration and first contact situations.”

Sinclair chewed over the information for a while. Though couched in the best diplomatic terms, there was something underlying the whole meeting that he couldn't quite put his finger on. But more than that, he could only think of a handful of people, two in particular, who fit the description which Hague had just given him, and while it was no long his command, Sinclair hated the idea of Babylon 5 being given to one of them in particular.

“I see, sir. And what of me?”

“The Minbari have once again expressed an interest in you, Commander,” Hague replied, the curiosity evident in his voice. Sinclair would have dearly loved to give him answers as well, if he had any himself. “They have suggested a new ambassador for Earth would welcome, and the Vice President...sorry, the _President_ feels this is an excellent idea.”

Sinclair gritted his teeth together, once again feeling like a pawn on a chess board, expendable and cast out. But there was something in the General's slip of the tongue that made him sit up an pay attention. “I see, sir,” he repeated.

Hague leant forward, his fingers crossed under his chin. “Do you?” he asked quietly.

The Commander's gaze sharpened, bringing the General's face into full focus. “Do I have a choice, sir?

The movement was subtle - to Sinclair's eye, well practised – and if he wasn't the man he was, and if Garibaldi wasn't his security chief, he wouldn't have noticed the jamming device being activated and placed on the table. “Actually, you do. I'm going to make this brief, Commander, because we don't have a lot of time. There is a lot more happening here than anyone knows, and I believe President Santiago's death was not an accident. I know I'm not alone in thinking that either; your investigation into what was happening, however brief, has already alerted Clark to you, and not in a good way. He wants you off Babylon 5 because you were loyal to Santiago; he wants to replace you with a puppet because he knows how important the station is,” Hague said, his words coming out carefully, quietly and urgently. “I want to keep you there because I believe you are a loyal soldier, loyal to the people of Earth, not to the person in charge, and I know that you would never follow an order if you didn't believe it was the right thing to do, and if it didn't follow the proper chain of command. I need someone like that in the key position that Babylon 5 is, but you're going to have to do a little bit of convincing acting for me to pull this off. If you refuse categorically to leave, if you imply that you have information of, say, aliens trying to take over....”

“Like when I was trying to infiltrate the Homeguard,” Sinclair replied.

Hague nodded. “Precisely. If you can do that, I can keep you there. I can keep you in a position to do some good. But,” the General continued heavily, “Clark _will_ send someone else, that I can assure you of. He feels that Babylon 5 is too important to be left with a single person in charge; he wants his hold on the outer colonies to be as tight as possible as soon as possible.” He grimaced angrily. “In fact, someone has already been chosen.”

“I will _not_ serve under another officer,” Sinclair said heatedly. “Sir.”

“And I wouldn't expect you to. You will be promoted to Captain and share equal rank.”

Sinclair had a tough time swallowing that one, but he knew he had no choice. “Who?” he asked, already dreading the answer.

Hague smiled faintly. “John Sheridan. I know you two have had your difficulties,” he continued when Sinclair's face fell, “But I had a hand in choosing him as well. He's a good man, a good officer; you both need to work together on this if we're going to win.”

“But he is also Clark's choice, assigned to Babylon 5 puppet, as you put it.” Sinclair shook his head. “I don't like it.”

“Neither do I, but he is Clark's choice and therefore it _will_ happen. Ironically, he was also Santiago's choice to replace you if anything happened.”

“That doesn't mean anything, sir.” Sinclair longed to drag his hand over his face, but resisted. “Now what?”

“Now I turn this off....” He gestured to the device. “...And we continue our charade. That is if I can count on you.” Sinclair nodded once. “No, Commander, you do not have a choice,” Hague continued, as if their conversation had never been interrupted.

“Sir, my work on Babylon 5....”

“...Is at an end.” Impatience was beginning to creep into Hague's voice. “You will report to Minbar at the earliest opportunity.”

“Sir! I have...information,” Sinclair said, uncertainty colouring his tone, like he wanted to share but that doing so went against his whole character.

“Go on.”

“There have been...rumours around the station that some of the alien governments are starting to work together, possibly against Earth. They fear that with President Santiago dead, Earth will become a threat to them. Ambassador Delenn has been indisposed for some time now, and Ambassador G'Kar has disappeared; even his aide doesn't know his whereabouts, and when a Narn like him goes off the grid.... General, I would seriously worry.”

Hague was silent for a moment, thinking. “Do you have anything more substantial than rumours, Commander?”

Sinclair shook his head. “Not yet, sir. But I was close to something before I was...recalled. If there was a chance I could go back, I know I could gather enough information to corroborate my suspicions. I've worked hard to make good relations with all the ambassadors, even Ambassador Kosh; I think they would share information with me easily.” It was a ploy, a weak one at best, but as long as Clark had some sort of foothold on Babylon 5, Sinclair's presence really was of little consequence to him.

“You have a reputation for being somewhat 'pro alien',” Hague reminded him.

Sinclair stiffened, and the indignation in his voice was all too real. “My first loyalty is, always has been and always will be to Earth and Earthforce, sir,” he replied.

Hague was silent for a while as he thought long and hard about what he had just been told. “I'll have to talk to the President about this, of course, and if we agree to send you back, we would expect to see some of this promised information very soon, Commander. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Sinclair replied.

The General stood, motioning for the Commander to stay where he was. “Wait here.” He disappeared into another room and reappeared not ten minutes later. He made a subtle 'okay' sign with his hand before speaking. “Very well, Commander Sinclair. I've spoken with President Clark and given the potential threat, he has agreed to send you back to Babylon 5...for now.” Sinclair didn't like that, but it was better than nothing. “There is one other thing; a replacement for you had already been chosen before this meeting, and we will still be sending him to Babylon 5. If the situation has the potential to turn as serious as you suggest, we're going to need a more experienced soldier.”

Again, the anger in the Sinclair's voice was all too real. “Sir, I object! I am more than capable of handling anything that happens on Babylon 5, as are my officers. And I will _not_ serve under another officer!”

Hague suddenly jumped to his feet. “You will do as you are ordered, Commander!” he snapped.

Sinclair stood to attention and saluted automatically. “Yes, sir!”

“Good.” The General sat again. “I wouldn't expect anyone in that situation to share command; as of now, I promote you to Captain. The paperwork will be sorted by the time you get back to Babylon 5.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“I know what you are thinking, Captain,” Hague said with a faint smile. “That this promotion is coming too late and for all the wrong reasons. Just accept it graciously.”

Sinclair nodded. “I will, sir. Thank you.”

“Now, I have another meeting to attend. Dismissed, Captain.”

Both men saluted one another and then Hague reached across to shake Sinclair's hand, their eyes locking in silent understanding. They were entering into a very dangerous game, it seemed, and the newly promoted Captain was almost certain that even the General didn't know all the rules. And not once had it seriously occurred to him to say 'no', to bow out, even if it was ungraciously. But if things were going to be played this way, there was something he wanted to sort out before leaving Earth.

Stopping with his hand on the door handle, Sinclair counted to ten, giving Hague enough time to pick up on his hesitation. It didn't take him long. “Something else, Captain?”

Sinclair turned. “Actually, sir, there is....”

JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI

Ivanova sat by Garibaldi's bed, not talking, just staring at the security chief. She wanted to tell him about Sinclair, wanted to explain that when he woke up – she was trying to remain positive that he _would_ wake up - things would be completely different for them all. But she couldn't, not like this, though it would have been much easier than saying it to his face. Face-to-face, Ivanova wasn't sure she would be would be able to mask her pain; not only had she lost Sinclair, she hadn't heard from him since she had left. It had only been a day or two, but already she was beginning to feel like her trust had been abused, though she wanted to much to have her faith in someone, in _him_ rewarded. Of course, there was always the option she was being too hard on him....

“You're thinking too much, Lieutenant Commander. Or being too hard on yourself. I can't decide which.”

Franklin's voice forced Ivanova to move and it was only when she found her neck stiff that she realised how long she had been sat there. “Am I disturbing you, Doctor?”

“You are being rather loud.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “No one has come in or out of med lab since you arrived, which is most definitely not normal.”

A sharp quip lay on the edge of her tongue, but she forced herself to swallow it. “I was just....”

“Thinking about the Commander?” Franklin finished for her, his tone sympathetic. “Or of how you're going to tell Mr Garibaldi what has happened when he wakes up. Or both”

“Something like that.”

“There's still time for him to come back.”

Ivanova stared at Franklin. “Do you honestly believe that, Doctor?”

Franklin stared back. “I believe that if things are meant to be a certain way, then they'll happen, but in their own time. If Commander Sinclair is meant to come back, he will.”

“If Mr Garibaldi is meant to survive...?” Ivanova couldn't help but ask.

A ghost of a smile graced Franklin's face. “That, of course, is a little different.”

Ivanova smiled back. “It's just...a lot to take in at once. The death of the President, the attack on Garibaldi, Je...Commander Sinclair leaving...and having the station to run as well.”

Franklin noticed the slip of tongue but pretended he didn't. “And you're doing a fine job, though the diplomatic community still needs some thinning out,” he joked.

She smiled in appreciation. “I'll see what I can do.” Almost absently, she laid a hand on Garibaldi's arm while looking at Franklin. “Thank you, Stephen.”

“Any time. No charge.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair was in no real hurry as he left Hague's office, the sense of certainty over his decision soon dissipating as he tried to wrap his head around what had just happened. He had been gripped with the certainty that his life on Babylon 5, even his career, was over, for some unknown reason. Now he had to adjust to the fact that not only was his career safe, he was returning to the station, and he was being promoted. But to share command with John Sheridan of all people.... Memories of being hazed and almost constantly bullied by Sheridan at the academy came flooding back to Sinclair, along with usual irony that he was older than the other Captain and should not have had to put up with such behaviour, and the anger that he couldn't stop him.

The other Captain....

Briefly he wondered how Sheridan felt about this deal; Sinclair imagined it wasn't too dissimilar to what he thought. But that wouldn't go anyway to establishing some sort of understanding between them; the only understanding Sinclair wanted from Sheridan was that the situation was temporary, and that he was in charge, not the _other_ Captain.

“Captain Sinclair!”

It took Sinclair a moment to realise he was being hailed and he turned to see a fresh-faced ensign running after him. “Yes?”

“An important letter from Minbar for you, sir,” he said, handing an envelope over.

“Thank you.” Sinclair studied it, frowning. There was something alien yet familiar about the handwriting, and he hastened to his room to read the contents in private. He was also curious as to what was on the piece of paper Hague had palmed him before he left his office; it was obviously secret and important, and Sinclair wondered what on Earth he had got himself into.

Once in his room, he locked the door and sat on the edge of the bed, peeling the note from his palm first.

_If you have any other business to attend to while you are 'out and about', you had better make it quick; you must be back on Babylon 5 within a few days. Good luck, Captain._

Sinclair read the note several times, fingering it absently as he wondered what Hague meant by 'other business'. Setting the piece of paper beside him, he picked up the envelope, idly wondering how many people had read it before it reached his hands, but somehow he suspected no one had. He suspected a Minbari had given the letter to the ensign, who had immediately handed it to him. Not that he could have explained how he knew that; it was the same feeling that told him the handwriting before him was familiar yet not.

The contents of the letter were brief and left Sinclair even more confused than before, as well as more than a little angry. A 'request' for him to go to Minbar - what did the Minbari want with him now, he wondered? It seemed that ever since the Line, they had been controlling his life, and he was getting damned near tired of it. But he would go, he would obey the instructions, and he _would_ be back on Babylon 5 soon. Sinclair then smiled and shook his head. How the hell had Hague known what was happening? Why else would he have sent such a cryptic note? The General was a sly old fox, and a cunning strategist; Sinclair was glad they were on the same side, and for an instant, he felt sorry for Clark.

But only for an instant. In his mind's eye, he saw EarthForce One exploding again and anger coursed through his veins. “One day,” he murmured, swearing revenge on the murderer hiding in plain sight.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Back in Hague's office, the General was waiting patiently for his call to be put through. He wasn't lying when he said he had another meeting; only this one wasn't in person. It was another task he was sure he was going to find distasteful in the end; although his meeting with Sinclair had gone off without a hitch, there was something about it all that still left him with a sour taste in his mouth, and he knew this discussion would go the same way.

 _“General Hague,”_ a voice said, a face appearing on the screen.

“Captain Sheridan,” Hague acknowledged. “We've had reports of a rogue Minbari warship in the sectors close the Babylon 5.”

 _“The Tregati,”_ Sheridan stated in a flat tone.

Hague nodded. “The Minbari have dispatched a second warship to deal with the Tregati, but they might not get there in time. I need you to head to that sector and make personal contact with the cruiser.”

Sheridan didn't like that. _“So I'm to take the Agamemnon to Babylon 5 and coordinate with them?”_ he asked after a few moments, his thoughts turning to what Commander Sinclair would think of that development, especially considering he outranked him.

Hague watched him closely. “Not exactly, Captain. I need you to do one other job. And this comes straight from the President....”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Five days had passed now. Five days since Sinclair had been recalled to Earth, and Ivanova had not heard anything from him or anyone else for that matter. She continued to run the station to the best of her abilities, thinking 'what would Sinclair have done?' in each situation, but her patience and her resolve were wearing thin. She just wanted to know what was going on, once and for all. If Sinclair wasn't coming back, then she wanted to know who his replacement would be; if by some miracle he was coming back, she wanted to know when. But she was in limbo and she hated it. What she hated more,though, was the regret that followed her around more closely than her own shadow. Regret over things not said, things not done, opportunities lost and would never come again.

Garibaldi was still in a coma and Franklin was starting to lose hope, though he tried not to show it, but Ivanova could see the strain written on his face. She wanted to talk to him about Sinclair but wouldn't; he had enough on his mind and they weren't that close yet. She could have spoken to Delenn but the ambassador continued to be indisposed. Ivanova shook her head. A cocoon – whatever next? And G'Kar continued to be missing, which gave her extra cause for concern. She had heard through Na'toth that he had wished to convey a message to Sinclair, about them being at a crossroads and that it was far too late to turn back. It didn't make much sense to Na'toth, but Ivanova understood it all too well. Yet despite seemingly have taken one path, she couldn't help but think there was an extremely sharp turn coming up, one that no one could have predicted, one that would change everything. Maybe it was just hopeful thinking on her part, she didn't know.

She stopped musing at the same time she stopped walking, not surprised by where her feet had taken her. Just like she visited Garibaldi, at the same time every day Ivanova found herself at Sinclair's quarters. Sometimes she would just stand there, but most often she would sneak a furtive glance around to make sure no one was watching and then slip inside, just as she did on that day. Despite the quarters being empty, Sinclair's presence was still strong in there and she could see him clearly, in her minds eye, bent over the bed packing his belongings as she had been the last time she saw him. She walked around slowly, her hand lingering here and there but never actually touching anything, until she eventually sat on the bed. He was gone; he wasn't coming back. Not after all this time. It just wasn't possible. And he hadn't been in touch which meant...what? It had all been a lie? Normally, Ivanova would have thought just that, buried her feelings deeply and just moved on with her life. Not this time. She _couldn't_ believe that was the case, didn't want to have her trust shattered again because she know if she did, she could never trust another living soul ever again, and that also meant in the line of duty as well. They were officers and diplomats some of the time, but soldiers at heart, fighters who needed to trust and rely on one another, and Ivanova knew if her trust was broken just one more time, especially by Sinclair, she would not be able to continue doing what she loved.

“I wish things had been different,” she murmured to the silence. “I wish we could have had a chance. I wish I had told you exactly what you meant to me. I'm sure you knew, but sometimes it's important to say the words; sometimes it's important to hear them spoken. I'm sorry, Jeff.”

Sighing, Ivanova stood and slipped out of his quarters as quietly as she had entered. She didn't noticed a tall broad figure down the hallway, didn't notice she was being watched. Kosh could have easily spared Ivanova's feelings by telling her what he knew; he was already aware of Sinclair's impending return, just as he was aware of Sheridan's arrival as well, just as he was aware of a great many things, both good and bad. And he had been warned not to meddle by the other Vorlons, but it simply wasn't his way. And anyway, what did it matter? Over the centuries, the millennia, they had meddled in the affairs of others aplenty, why should they stop now? Things were going according to his plan, key players were moving into place, and that was all that was important. As long as the end result was the same as it had always been, the journey was almost inconsequential. At least to him.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Much like the one with General Hague, the meeting Sinclair had just been engaged in had not gone how he imagined it would at all. He had been told a sparse number of things, some which went a way to explaining a lot of other things, some which confused him more, and none of which he could repeat to anyone. But he had a much better idea now why the Minbari surrendered so suddenly, though he wasn't quite sure how he felt about the personal consequences. Though he hadn't been told directly, he was almost certain he was one of those people with part of a Minbari soul; that would explain why people seemed to remark often about how he spoke like a Minbari, and why, despite the war, he felt quite comfortable about the Minbari people and on their home planet.

Actually, there was one person he could talk to, one person who would help him shoulder the great responsibility he had been mysteriously given, but whether she would be available by the time he returned to Babylon 5 remained to be seen.

Sinclair allowed himself to drift deeply into thought as he walked through the streets, absently taking in the architecture and noticing how surprisingly at peace he felt on Minbar. Calm. And yet, he thought about the life he had almost been forced into, the role of ambassador stationed permanently on the planet, and he just couldn't see himself doing it. The shoe just didn't fit and he wondered if he would ever have come to like it, or if he would have been miserable, growing steadily more bitter as he had been doing before being assigned to Babylon 5. Hague had been right; Sinclair's promotion to Captain was well overdue, and coming about for all the wrong reasons.

He finally came to stop in an open square, small gardens adorning it an intricate pattern, and he settled himself on one of the many benches, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. He had done what he needed to on Minbar. He had done what needed to be done on Earth. It was time to return to Babylon 5. He wanted to say 'return to normal' but after everything that had happened in the last, he doubted he would ever know what that word meant again.

“Commander?”

Sinclair's eyes flew open and a broad grin spread across his features. “Miss Beldon,” he said, standing.

The last few months had been good to Alisa, and it seemed that life on Minbar agreed with her completely. She looked so comfortable, so at home and happy that Sinclair found himself feeling jealous. “It is you!”

Without much warning, she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his chest, and he laughed loudly, the sound reverberating deeply within him. “It certainly is. And it's Captain now,” he told her.

“Captain Sinclair? I like the sound of that.” She grinned back at him. “What are you doing on Minbar?”

“I had some business to attend to. I can't say any more than that.” He could have lied and she would have accepted it while knowing he was lying, but he didn't want to.

Alisa nodded in understanding. “How is everyone? Ivanova? Talia? How are things on the station?”

Sinclair gestured to the bench and they sat. “Things are tense, to say the least, what with the...death of President Santiago.”

She nodded again, her expression grave. “I heard about that. It was awful. And I don't like Clark one bit.” She gazed at him piercingly. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Reading my mind?”

“No,” Alisa replied firmly. “But I think I know you. You won't let this lie, and neither will Ivanova.”

“You're right, we won't. We'll take care of it, one way or another, sooner or later,” Sinclair told her.

“Don't worry, I won't tell anyone.”

He smiled. “I know. Talia is fine, Ivanova is....” He sighed. “She was upset with me. I was recalled to Earth suddenly, and I thought I was going to be reassigned. Instead, I was promoted and I'm being sent back. But I haven't had the chance to talk to Susan yet, which means....”

“There's a good chance she'll give you a black eye when she sees you next.”

He laughed again. “Possibly.”

“Is it just the regulations that stop you from admitting how you feel about each other?” Alisa asked directly. “Or is there another reason?”

“I see you haven't changed that much,” Sinclair murmured. “A little of both.”

Alisa smiled. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“Answering honestly.”

Sinclair nodded. “Michael got shot,” he told her. “He uncovered the plot to murder the President but someone shot him in the back before he could tell anyone, or at least in time for us to do anything about it. He's in a coma, and Stephen wasn't sure he would wake up or not when I left.”

Alisa bit her lip. “I liked Mr Garibaldi. And Dr Franklin too. I liked all of you, and the station. I wish...sometimes I wish I could have stayed, but I know it wasn't possible. And I'm grateful for the help you all gave me. It's just....”

“It's difficult to be somewhere new, on your own,” Sinclair said gently. “Though you nearly had company.” He told her briefly about his almost reassignment, and the reason he was going back tot he station. “Are the Minbari treating you well?”

“Too well. I'm not used to it!”

“You'll be alright.” He put his arm around her shoulder and hugged her.

“Will you?” Alisa asked quietly.

Sinclair looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“Things are changing. You thought you knew what was going on; you don't. You have some answers, but not enough, and you're more confused than ever in a lot of ways.” She smiled at him. “I didn't read your mind, but I can sense how you feel. Strong emotion is hard to block.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. So, will you be okay?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“On whether or not Ivanova gives me a black eye.” They both started laughing and Sinclair hugged her again. “I have to go.”

“I know.” Alisa stood first, then held her hand up, helping him to his feet. Once stood, she threw her arms around him again. “Take care, Captain.”

“You too, Alisa,” he replied gently. “And I suspect I'll see you again at some point.”

“You'll be back?”

His expression was a mystery, his mind completely closed off. “It's a possibility.”

“You know, I thought I saw you when I first arrived here,” Alisa called after him.

Sinclair stopped and turned. “Oh?”

She nodded. “But then I realised it wasn't you, it was just a statue, and of Valen at that. What do you think of that? Weird, huh?”

He smiled and shook his head. “Very weird. Good bye, Alisa.”

“Tell Ivanova and Talia I said hi!”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

A priority message from General Hague was the last thing Ivanova wanted to deal with, though she did want an answer. It had been now been a week since Sinclair had left, a week since all hell had broken loose, and all she had received from EarthForce was radio silence. Her inquiries as to Sinclair's whereabouts had fallen on deaf ears, her questions about who was running the station had been ignored. And Sinclair's silence was beginning to worry her; for a while, she wondered if he had been 'dispatched' by the same group who had shot Garibaldi. It was an ugly possibility to consider, but one she couldn't get out of her mind. And now Hague wanted to talk to her; what could he possibly say now that he couldn't have said a few days ago?

Stepping into the office – she had stopped thinking of it as Sinclair's – Ivanova told the tech to put the transmission through. “General Hague, sir,” she acknowledged the face on the screen.

 _“Lieutenant Commander Ivanova, I'm sorry to have left you hanging so long without a word but we have been very busy here”_ he replied.

“I understand, sir. Any news?”

_“We're still investigating why EarthForce One exploded but that's not why I called.”_ He took a deep breath. _“Commander Sinclair, will not be returning to Babylon 5. It has taken us some time to sort through the...administrative side of things, what with everything else going on, but a new commanding officer has been assigned and should arrive....”_

Ivanova tuned out long before the words 'new commanding officer', which was extremely bad for her iron discipline, but she couldn't have cared less. In that moment, everything else ceased to matter; all that mattered was Sinclair was _not_ coming back, and she realised that although she had been expecting it, more than a small part of her had hoped he would return. But now she had been told the raw truth and all she could think of was how it was all so damned unfair, so damned tragic, and so damned _Russian._

Then Ivanova became aware that Hague was still talking and he hadn't heard a word he had said.. “Sorry, General, your signal broke up for a moment.”

Hague had to stop himself from smiling. She was a smooth liar, he had to admit, but her expression had given a lot away. Not that it mattered to him; he was just glad he was safe on Earth. Ivanova did not have the reputation she had for no reason, and he was certain that if he was closer, she would be exacting revenge on him for his little bit of fun, General or no General.

_“As I was saying, Lieutenant Commander, Captain Sheridan will be arriving on Babylon 5 in a few days. Captain Sinclair will follow....”_

“Captain Sheridan? As in John Sheridan?” she blurted out before Hague could finish the rest of the sentence.

He nodded. _“You know him?”_ he asked, although he already knew the answer, which had been another reason he had hoped Clark would pick Sheridan.

“I served with him on Io, sir. He's a good man, a fine soldier, but his posting is bound to be a controversial choice. If I may ask...?” Ivanova started respectfully.

 _“You may not. His appointment comes directly from President Clark, understood?”_ Hague said firmly. _“And any more questions can go directly through your new COs.”_

“Yes, sir,” Ivanova replied.

Hague smiled, wondering if Ivanova had picked up on what he had actualy said, but when it became clear her memory recall wasn't working as quickly as it should have been, he nodded. _“Good day, Lieutenant Commander.”_

The screen went blank and Ivanova stared at it for a few moments before crumpling into the chair.

_“...Commander Sinclair, will not be returning to Babylon 5.”_

It was likely she wouldn't see him again. And he hadn't been in touch. Her emotions warred within her, anger battling sadness, and determination was trying to rule over them both.

_“...Commander Sinclair, will not be returning to Babylon 5.”_

He was a threat, that was the only reason she could think of for his sudden recall. Someone felt threatened by him, but who? But there was something else that was nagging her, something about Hague's message. Had she heard it right?

“...Captain _Sinclair,will not be returning to Babylon 5.”_

She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to murder someone. She....

Ivanova jumped straight out of her chair. _Captain_ Sinclair? Where the hell had that come from? Her heart suddenly started to beat wildly in her chest and she forced herself to calm down as she replayed the conversation with Hague in her head.

_“...Commander Sinclair, will not be returning to Babylon 5.... As I was saying, Lieutenant Commander, Captain Sheridan will be arriving on Babylon 5 in a few days. Captain Sinclair will follow....”_

_Captain_ Sinclair.... Did that mean...?

“Computer, replay last message from General Hague.”

She forwarded the message until she reached the part she wanted; the rest of the conversation she had missed due to Hague's timely misdirection. _“As I was saying, Lieutenant Commander, Captain Sheridan will be arriving on Babylon 5 in a few days. Captain Sinclair will follow a day or two after that. They will share command of the station; neither of them will be in charge of the other. President Clark's orders. I'm sure you'll be able to keep them in line.”_

 _Captain_ Sinclair.

He had been promoted.

And he was coming back.

To the station.

To _her_.

She was elated but now certain that God hated her. How the hell was she supposed to keep Sinclair and Sheridan from killing each other? Because she was certain that is what would happen. Having served with both men, she knew neither of them were particularly good at sharing, they were both very independent and had somewhat differing views of how an outpost should be run. Although if she killed Sinclair first – and she was sorely tempted at that point – her problem would be solved. Of course, she would then be court marshalled, so perhaps resorting to murder was a little harsh. But there were going to be problems, Ivanova could that as clearly as Epsilon III. Garibaldi was one of them, should he wake up; would he be able to give Sheridan the same loyalty as Sinclair? She doubted it. And then, of course, there was herself. She respected Sheridan a great deal, got on with him very well, but Sinclair was...Sinclair.

And then suddenly, she realised what Hague had done to her. “I'm going to kill him,” she announced to the empty room. “General or not, I am going to kill him.” And with that, she turned on her heel and strode out of the room, looking for innocent prey to vent her temper on.

TBC


	26. 201 Points of Departure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so according to canon through the novels, Sheridan was a year ahead of Sinclair at the academy and the two of them became friends during the Mars riots. For the purpose of this story, I'm saying that Sinclair was a year ahead of Sheridan (because he's a year older) and that they're not friends...yet. Just to clear that up.
> 
> Also, this chapter turned out to be longer than I thought and kind of hellish to write! I'm hoping it's not too long-winded, and fits in with the rest of the story. Hopefully also not too OOC. I will be giving Sheridan a hard time for a while, though. ;) (And Ivanova will be giving Sinclair a hard time too!)

_January 2259_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair sat in the docking area, waiting patiently for his transport to arrive. Part of him was glad to be leaving Minbar, to be heading back to Babylon 5 and his friends...and Ivanova. But a part of him was actually sad to be leaving; with what he had learned during his brief stay, he now understood why the planet felt like home for him, despite having fought the Minbari with passion. And he knew that despite his broad outlook, it would take him some time to adjust to the news; others would take a lot longer to wrap their brains around the idea that humans shared part or whole Minbari souls, and he knew it would throw more fuel on the fire of hate for 'pro-Earth' groups. The very idea that he had to pretend to be more like that, for a while at least, made Sinclair clench his jaw angrily. If he could accept other races, even the Minbari, so could everyone else.

Looking down, he ran his fingers over the box he held, still astounded by the sacred charge he had been given, though there had been no explanation as to why it had to be him. He suspected the answers would become clear in the future; he just wasn't sure he wanted them to. And that train of thought led him to Delenn; was that what she wanted to tell him, about humans sharing Minbari souls? And that Sinclair himself has one of these souls? He wondered if she knew about his other task as well; or the fact that he had a 'destiny'.

_“You have...a destiny. Go. Go for Zathras.”_

A strange alien who no one had ever seen the likes of before told Sinclair about his destiny several months before the Minbari confirmed it; they just didn't tell him what that destiny was. But rather than anger him, it made him think; it was possible even they didn't know what it was.

“Captain Sinclair?”

He looked up to see a Minbari stood, bowing respectfully. “Yes, Rathenn?”

The Minbari looked particularly pleased that he remembered his name, but it wasn't difficult; Rathenn had been the one to guide Sinclair through most of the meetings during his stay on Minbar. “Your ship is ready, Entil'zha.”

Sinclair looked him sombrely. “Thank you.” He stood. “I have a request to make, if I may.”

“Of course, Entil'zha.”

“Please don't call me that. Secrecy is essential and if anyone else hears that name....” He trailed off. _'And I'm not exactly comfortable with the 'title' yet,'_ Sinclair thought to himself.

Rathenn bowed once more. “Of course, Entil....Captain Sinclair.”

Sinclair bowed back. “Thank you.”

“It is customary with humans to wish a safe journey, is it not?”

“Yes, it is.”

“May Valen go with you.”

“And with you.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova stood hunched over a console, her expression clearly stressed, her mind racing over more things than it could cope with. “When the Captain's ship arrives...,” she started to say, then closed her eyes and trailed off. “When Captain _Sheridan's_ ship arrives, notify me immediately. I want an honour guard present to welcome him on board. And I want to be notified the _second_ Captain _Sinclair's_ ship docks. No honour guard needed for that, though.” After her conversation with General Hague, she had given the crew the brief version of what was going to happen, with the promise that one or both of the Captains would explain things further. There was confusion, of course; no military outpost warranted two commanding officers, but then again, Babylon 5 was anything but ordinary.

A technician stood by her, looking slightly fearful. “That's what I was going to tell you, Lieutenant Commander. He's here.”

Ivanova tuned out for a blissful few seconds, her mind retreating to fantasy as she imagined how she could greet Sinclair; she still hadn't decided whether she should give him a black eye, a broken nose, a kiss, a hug, or all the above. Whatever happened, she knew she could not wait to see him again, to hear his voice...and in that moment, she realised just how much she had missed him, how much she had grown used to him in her life, and although it scared her a little, she was more willing to accept it than ever before.

Then she realised the tech was staring at her. “What?”

“Captain Sheridan, he's docking now,” he said urgently.

Ivanova's eyes widened and as his words sunk in, she set off at a dead run, crew members and civilians melting out of her path as she barrelled down the corridors. She reached the docking area just as Sheridan was walking through the doors, but luckily he was too busy gawking at his surroundings to notice her sudden entrance. Ivanova quickly grabbed a security officer stood nearby and together they skidded to a halt in front of Sheridan, saluting. Luckily, he was as oblivious as always to anything out of the ordinary; silently, Ivanova hoped that would be true of her relationship with Sinclair as well.

“Welcome aboard, sir,” Ivanova greeted him, trying to maintain a smile as he saluted back; she remembered how much Sinclair hated that reaction from his junior officers. “I'm authorised to surrender control of Babylon 5 to you at this time....” She left her sentence hanging, unsure whether to say anything else.

Luckily, Sheridan seemed to understand. “Thank you, Lieutenant Commander. I accept joint command.”

Ivanova tried not to breathe an obvious sigh of relief. “I'll arrange to have your bags taken to your quarters. I presume you would like a quick tour of the facilities?”

Sheridan was still trying take everything in, not just the sudden shift from a ship to a station, but sharing command as well, not to mention the orders from Hague. And although Ivanova's manner seemed to be more abrupt than he remembered, he tried not to read too much into it. He knew it would have been a tough week for her and while she might have been glad to see him, she would be looking forward to seeing Sinclair more, of that he was sure. Sheridan had read the reports, had listened to the rumours; between Sinclair, Ivanova and Garibaldi, they made a mean team, and even he was a little wary of trying to work with them.

They talked as they walked, Ivanova filling him in on things that might not have been mentioned in the reports, and Sheridan responded enthusiastically, a little too much so for her liking. She had forgotten how much like a child he could be, or like a golden retriever, always wanting to please people. He was energetic, hard and hot-headed sometimes; she could see much head-butting between him and Sinclair in the future. She tried to be patient with him, but some of her sarcasm must have shown through because Sheridan toned himself down after a while.

“So, I take it Captain Sinclair hasn't arrived back yet?” he asked mildly.

“No, sir.”

“Any word from him?”

“No, sir.”

“Hmm. Well, all I know is that he should be here in the next day or so.”

“Is he still on Earth?” Ivanova asked curiously.

Sheridan gave a short laugh. “To be honest, I have no idea. General Hague's communique to me wasn't exactly lengthy.”

“I hope he gave you some more information than he told me.”

“Probably not,” Sheridan replied, aware he was lying through his teeth. “He wanted me here to help deal with the Tregati situation, should the ship make an appearance in this sector. But as for the joint command.... You know as much as I do, Lieutenant Commander.”

With sudden insight, Ivanova realised how much Sheridan could grow to resent his posting on Babylon 5. There was more interaction with different species, to be sure, but there was something about the excitement of commanding your own starship, something she could understand as deep down, it was what she had always desired. But when she was offered second-in-command of the station, there was no way she could turn down such an important position.

“I'm sure they'll give us answers, in time. When they're ready,” she said, making an effort to soften her disposition towards him a little.

“Yeah, probably _after_ a crisis. That's usually when things like that happen, right?” he replied.

Ivanova smiled. “Yes, sir.”

Idly, Sheridan wondered if she still called Sinclair 'sir' as much; he doubted it, and it was something he wanted to work on as soon as possible. He's never been one for formality, really, especially not amongst his senior staff. “How bad is Mr Garibaldi's condition?” he asked, moving the conversation along.

She sighed again, her expression changing once more. “He's been in a coma for over a week. Dr Franklin's done all he can, now it's just a case of waiting for Michael to pull himself out of it.”

“I imagine that's frustrating for the doctor,” Sheridan stated.

Ivanova nodded. “Have the two of you ever met?”

“No, but I've followed his work whenever I can. He's quite the pioneer.”

“Have you been following my career as closely?”

“Of course.” He smiled at her. “Now, correct me if I'm wrong but Ambassador G'Kar of the Narns has...disappeared?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And this concerns you,” Sheridan stated.

Ivanova looked at him. “Once you've met G'Kar, you'll understand why I'm worried. He's not your average Narn, in more ways than one. He's also member of Kha'Ri, or at least we think he is.”

“You think?”

“We're certain, we're just waiting for him to actually say the words,” Ivanova replied.

“And Ambassador Delenn...?”

“Is in a cocoon, yes. And I have my suspicions about her real position as well.”

Sheridan glanced at her. “Grey Council?”

“I forgot how much you like conspiracies and dark secrets,” Ivanova said with a smile and a roll of her eyes.

“Who else is there?”

“Ambassador Mollari of the Centauri.” Ivanova was quiet for a moment as she thought. “Londo is...a complex person. Sometimes he can be the most irritating person on the station, even surpassing Mr Garibaldi, but sometimes.... I don't know. You'll see for yourself, sir.”

“What about the Vorlon ambassador?” he asked.

She looked at him. “Kosh? Kosh is...Kosh.”

“Which was the answer I was expecting.”

She smiled and stopped by a door. “And this will be your quarters. I hope it's satisfactory.”

It was amusing to watch Sheridan walk around like a kid in a candy store, clearly impressed by the space and doubly impressed by the presence of a real live honest-to-God running water shower. They talked about his appointment again, and she was surprised to learn he was Santiago's choice to replace Sinclair should something happen. It was a piece of information she stored away to process properly at a later date; clearly, Santiago had been smarter and more cunning than he had let on.

“I'm hoping that Sinclair's return will negate some of the 'bad' publicity with the Minbari regarding my posting here,” Sheridan said when they had covered that topic.

“He's worked hard to make good relations with the Minbari, but I'm sure there won't be a problem, sir,” Ivanova replied with a smile. “I think you'll find that Ambassador Delenn in particular is quite...unusual and very engaging.”

“Before or after the cocoon?” Sheridan asked with a grin. Ivanova rolled her eyes at him. “Well, one thing's for sure, I'll be relying on you pretty heavily these next few weeks, until I'm up to speed. Even after Sinclair gets back, I'll still need your help.” He knew he was putting her in an awkward position, but he needed to be kept in the loop, not excluded from it, and something told him that Sinclair was going to play the 'awkward' card to the hilt. Not that he blamed him.

She understood what he was not saying, but couldn't give him a direct answer. While she wanted to be loyal to both Captains, she knew it wasn't going to be easy. “Well, it certainly can't be any worse than the last week,” she said lightly.

“How's the crew handling it?” he asked, serious now.

“They're still pretty shocked. I mean, Garibaldi getting shot, Sinclair leaving, you arriving, President Santiago's death...I don't think the reality of it has quite sunken in yet.”

Sheridan looked at her carefully. “And you?” His tone was soft, low, and caring.

Ivanova was surprised how much she wanted and needed to talk about what had happened, and at his question, the floodgates opened and she let all of her worries, insecurities and fears out, something she definitely wouldn't have done before. She tried to keep Sinclair out of the conversation, tried to keep it focussed on Santiago's death and the fact that they should have been able to stop it.

“Mr Garibaldi uncovered a plot to assassinate the President?” Sheridan asked, shocked.

Ivanova nodded. “Then he was shot, and we were too late.”

“Did you inform anyone back home?”

“Com...Captain Sinclair did. Then he was ordered back to Earth.” She forced herself to not think about what might have happened; that Sinclair might not have returned at all. “Anyway, let's just say I'm very happy to see you.”

“I appreciate that, and coming from you, it means a lot,” Sheridan said, his voice roughened with emotion. This was a side of Ivanova he wasn't used to seeing, but he was certainly glad she had softened somewhat. He still wouldn't like to cross her, however; he had seen her temper in full throttle on more than one occasion.

Ivanova collected herself and stood. “I should also mention that the crew is looking forward to meeting you.”

“Really?”

She smiled at his uncertainty. “Right now they need someone in a position of authority to guide them and as Sinclair isn't here, they'll have to make do with you. Sir.”

Sheridan tried to frown but ended up smiling instead. “Thank you, Lieutenant Commander, that makes me feel so much better.”

“I have a few things to take care of. Would you mind if I caught up with you in C&C in a while?”

“Sure. I'll just grab a fast shower and I'll see you there in twenty.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair wasn't alone on the transport but as all the others were Minbari, no one bothered to interact with him, for which he was glad; his thoughts were more than enough company for him. Despite his best efforts to calm himself, his mind was racing from one notion to another at a speed he was sure was faster than light. By now he knew Sheridan would be on board Babylon 5 and that idea made his blood boil, even though he knew he had no choice. He wondered how hard the other Captain would try to integrate himself into the crew; wondered how much of a divide he would try to cause.

The other Captain.

Sinclair shook his head. It was completely unheard of, yet no one seemed to have batted an eyelid about the change in command...not yet, at least. Not on the surface. He wondered how Garibaldi would react when he woke up.

If he woke up.

Sinclair dragged a hand over his face. He'd had no contact with anyone on Babylon 5 since he left the station; there simply wasn't time and really, all the things he wanted to say could only be said in person. But he was certain that if the news regarding his old friend had been bad, someone somewhere would have gotten a message to him. He wondered if Garibaldi was awake yet, on the mend perhaps, or still in a coma. He would find out soon enough. He was certain Franklin would have done everything in his power to keep the security chief alive, but even the doctor's skills had limits, whether he wanted to admit them or not.

And then, of course, there was Ivanova. The joy in the thought of seeing her again was like a physical pain in his chest; being separated from her had been like denying oxygen to his lungs, and he could only hope that she felt the same...could only hope that she could forgive him, not just for leaving and not being in touch, but for the secrets he had to keep from her. For the tasks that lay ahead of him.

Sinclair once again thought of the box, safely tucked away in his luggage now. The strict instructions not to open it yet, that he would know when the time was right. And the task to train others...to train himself. He had wanted to ask 'why me?' but as soon as he saw the letter that Rathenn had handed to him, as soon as he looked at the script on the envelope, the words had died on his tongue. He knew why he had been chosen, though he still didn't understand the how of it all. But maybe one day he would.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Good afternoon, Lieutenant Commander,” Franklin said without turning.

Ivanova couldn't help but smile. “How did you know it was me?”

“You always come by the same time every day,” he replied, turning to look at her.

Instantly she felt guilt wash over her. Although she had spent a lot of time in med lab, she had hardly spoken to him since Sinclair left, and suddenly she felt she should make a better effort. He was an important part of the crew and the senior staff who often seemed to get left out of things he should be included in.

“Thank you, Stephen,” she said spontaneously.

Franklin's eyes widened to the point of being comical. “What for?”

“I just realised what a constant you have been recently,” Ivanova told him. “With Garibaldi...and Sinclair...both leaving in their own ways...but you're still here.”

“So is Garibaldi...sort of. And the Commander is coming back,” Franklin reminded her.

She smiled at him. “Captain.”

He smiled back. “I'll try to remember that.” Then he turned serious. “You don't have to thank me, Susan. With everything else that's going on.... There's nowhere else I'd rather be.”

“Well, I for one am glad to have you here.”

“How's the new...other Captain?”

“Different to Sinclair. I think you'll like him. He is quite personable, if a little too enthusiastic sometimes,” Ivanova said with a faint smile.

“Well, I'm sure he'll be round to introduce himself eventually,” Franklin replied.

She nodded. “Definitely. So...how's he doing?” she asked, glancing at Garibaldi.

“No change. We've done all we can. Now it's just waiting and seeing. The body is an amazing thing. It can heal itself, or it can decide one day to just give up no matter how hard you try to heal it. That debate is going on inside Garibaldi right now,” he said, staring at the security chief.

“So what? We just keep him hooked up like this until he comes out of the coma? Which could be weeks, months...years, never?” Ivanova didn't look happy about that prospect at all.

Franklin shrugged. “It's all we can do. We're just going to have to wait and see how much he wants to live.”

“I'll say a prayer for him tonight,” Ivanova said, lost in thought. She had hoped Garibaldi would be back on his feet by now; she couldn't imagine Sinclair coming back to find his friend in the same position, but she also couldn't imagine handling Garibaldi if he woke to find Sinclair wasn't around.

“He's agnostic,” Franklin told her, amused.

“Then I'll say half a prayer,” she replied instantly, omitting that she had been praying for him every night since he was shot, just as she had prayed for Sinclair every day since he had left.

Franklin smiled at her. “Any word on when Captain Sinclair will be back?”

“Not yet. But soon.”

“Is there likely to be problems between him and Captain Sheridan?”

Ivanova just looked at him. “Doctor, you have no idea. I'll see you later.”

Franklin watched her walk away and when she reached the door, as she ran a hand over her hair in a movement so reminiscent of Sinclair he almost laughed. He had to admit he didn't know much about Sheridan, but knowing what he did about Sinclair he could see huge problems in Babylon 5's future. But instead of dwelling on it, he shook his head. His only concern now was keeping Garibaldi alive.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

She was certain it was obvious to the rest of the crew, but luckily for Ivanova, Sheridan had his back to her and remained oblivious to her impatience. She suspected he would remain that way for quite some time, for which she was grateful. It wasn't that she wanted to be in charge of the station – she knew she wasn't ready yet for such a position – but to see Sheridan taking his time was frustrating her. She understood his need to make his presence felt and to make himself known to the crew before Sinclair got back; she understood his need to make a speech. But in reality, all of that could wait; if the safety of the station was in question, that was top priority. She knew Sinclair would agree with her.

And in an instant, Ivanova once again felt guilty for not giving Sheridan a chance, for automatically siding with Sinclair and she once again started to question her feelings for him. Not whether she had them or not, but whether it was a wise idea to acknowledge and embrace them. And, not for the first time, she wanted to kill whoever thought it was a good idea to put Sinclair and Sheridan in joint command of the station.

“You okay?” Sheridan asked as they walked off the command deck.

Ivanova nodded. “I was just thinking what we're going to call the office now.” He looked at her quizzically. “Well, it isn't the Commander's any more. And it can't just be the Captain's office. We call it the briefing room, sometimes, but I've never thought that very appropriate.”

“Why not call it the Captains' office?” Sheridan suggested with a smile.

Ivanova tried unsuccessfully not to glare at him. “What's the difference, sir?”

“The apostrophe, Lieutenant Commander,” he replied, winking.

It was possible that had she not been distracted in that moment by stepping into the room they had been discussing, Ivanova may well have uttered something extremely inappropriate. With Sinclair it wouldn't have mattered; such banter had become an integral part of their relationship. But even though she had served with Sheridan before, it would be a while before she was that comfortable with him. Then her mind turned to what had distracted her in the first place; the office. She wasn't entirely sure when it had happened or who had authorised it, but sometime after Sinclair had left, she entered the room to find it had been changed, almost beyond recognition. Where there had been the strange wall decoration of circles and a triangle was now a window with a view. There were plants as well, and new furniture. It was almost as though someone had tried their hardest to erase Sinclair from the station...almost as though someone was sure he wasn't coming back. At least that's the impression that Ivanova had when she walked in. And now...now she could see exactly how his train of thought would go, and he was certain he would somehow manage to blame Sheridan for the changes.

Realising she had been quiet for far too long, Ivanova turned with a smart reply on her tongue, only to find Sheridan holding a piece of paper in his hand, staring at it with a frown. She wondered what it was or where it had come from, but then again, whenever she had been in the room lately, she hadn't noticed much of anything, except the absence of its previous occupant.

“Sir?” Ivanova asked tentatively.

“Hmm?” Sheridan replied, looking at her but still frowning.

“Is there a problem?”

He continued to stare for a moment, then collected himself. “Oh, no. No problem.” With that, he put the piece of paper back on the desk, and Ivanova made a mental note to see what was on it the first chance she got. But then a tall Minbari in plain robes entered the office and all thoughts of snooping went from her mind. There was something about his bearing that didn't sit with his role in the government that he supplied when he introduced himself.

As Hedronn explained about Kalain's presence on the station, Ivanova tried to keep quiet as much as possible. She wanted to see how Sheridan would handle the situation, and how the Minbari would react to him. It was, mostly, as she expected; when Hedronn said he didn't recognise Sheridan's authority and the captain responded by saying the President felt the Minbari had too much control over an Earth outpost, she almost jumped off her seat to restrain them both. And then when Hedronn brought up the destruction of the Blackstar.... Ivanova found herself impossibly torn. On the one hand, it was the only real victory Earth had in the Minbari war, and she was proud as a warrior of that victory. But she could understand how the Minbari would carry such a defeat like an open wound, and Sheridan's smug expression didn't help the situation.

But there was something more interesting caught her attention; Hedronn referred to Sinclair in the past tense, as Sheridan predecessor. Which meant the Minbari were not yet aware of his return, something that struck Ivanova as being extremely strange. All Earthforce personnel knew he was coming back; how, then, did other governments not? She realised then what a pivotal role Delenn played on the station, and the same could be said about G'Kar. Without them, both governments seemed to be poorly informed of politics, and happily so. And Londo...well, Londo was Londo.

“He's Grey Council, he's gotta be,” Sheridan was saying, then he looked down at her. “You're right, they're not happy to see me here.”

Ivanova was tempted to bring him up short on his behaviour; antagonising the Minbari in such a way wasn't exactly an auspicious start to his command of Babylon 5, and if he had been Sinclair, she could have berated him. Of course, if he had been Sinclair, there would have been no need to have that conversation. But as he was new, she opted for tact instead, and asked him how he destroyed the Blackstar, though what she really wanted to know was how much danger they were in from this rogue Minbari ship, if any at all. But she didn't get a chance to voice her concern as Sheridan was struck with an obvious idea.

“He said Kalain feels he has been betrayed by his world. If that's so, wouldn't your first target here be the representative of that world?”

The colour drained from Ivanova's face and she was instantly on her feet. While Sheridan understood the basics - that Delenn was an ambassador and needed their protection, especially in her vulnerable state – there was no way he could understand the depth of her involvement in the station. No way he could possibly understand just how much Delenn meant to so many people, especially Ivanova. And Sinclair. If anything happened to the Minbari ambassador on Sheridan's watch, Ivanova knew Sinclair would have no qualms about spacing him instantly, and depending on the situation, she would probably back him up. It was obvious Sheridan had no love for the Minbari, and he wasn't to know that Delenn was different; but Ivanova was hopeful that he would learn in time.

“Delenn,” she stated in a choked voice, racing from the office.

“Ivanova! Ivanova, wait a minute!” Sheridan called after her, slightly startled by her vehement reaction.

“We might not _have_ a minute...sir,” she added belatedly, not slowing her pace as she tapped her link. “Security, I need a team to meet me outside Ambassador Delenn's quarters now.”

_“Yes, Lieutenant Commander.”_

Sheridan bit his tongue as he kept pace with her. With anyone else, overriding his authority that way, he would have pulled them up short and let them know how unhappy he was with them. But he had to remind himself that Ivanova had been running the station single-handedly for the last week, and that from all accounts, Sinclair had allowed her a certain amount of leeway – the other Captain would most likely call it 'education and growth' or something like that – and so Sheridan knew he couldn't expect her to change instantly. In fact, he was well aware how much compromising was ahead of them all, and he knew it wouldn't be easy; for him, the word 'compromise' wasn't in his vocabulary.

They reached the ambassadorial wing at the same time as security, and Ivanova seemed to remember her place as she let them go in first, and she followed Sheridan. Kalain was stood there, PPG in hand, pointing at Lennier, but that was all. He didn't resist arrest, didn't put up any kind of fight, and that worried Ivanova. She watched in almost mild amusement as Lennier and Sheridan introduced themselves; neither seemed impressed with the other and when Sheridan tried to barge past Lennier, Ivanova was certain the Minbari would have dismembered him with a second thought had the Captain tried to force the issue. Instead, he backed down gracefully and turned to leave.

Ivanova hesitated. While Sinclair had told her about Delenn's cocoon, she hadn't seen it personally. And she wanted to tell the ambassador about Sinclair's departure, and subsequent return, whether she could hear her or not. Lennier watched her carefully, and Sheridan noted from his position in the doorway that he treated her differently...with respect.

“How...how is she?” Ivanova asked quietly.

“There is...no change. Yet,” Lennier answered.

Ivanova nodded. “When she is...available, I need to talk to her,” she said quietly, so only he could hear her.

Lennier bowed to her. “I will relay the message, Lieutenant Commander.”

She inclined her head. “Thank you.”

Sheridan was waiting for her outside and they walked to the brig in silence. It was clear he wanted to say something, but Ivanova didn't know what. And in that moment, she didn't care. She found herself constantly being torn between being glad to see him and thinking he'd do well on the station once he settled in, to thinking that it was a bad idea and she would be left cleaning up some very ugly messes if he didn't keep himself under control.

And during the questioning of Kalain, Sheridan proved that he was incapable of that; he proved himself to be more of a hothead than Garibaldi and Sinclair put together, and that was saying something. He was pushing all of Kalain's buttons, in the wrong way, she felt, and although she tried to get him to take a break, he completely ignored her and that made her mad. She was also worried; Sheridan had raised a valid point at the end. If Kalain was on Babylon 5, where was his ship? Yet the Captain seemed more interested in needling the Minbari than the safety of the station, which didn't sit well with her. She also had the feeling that Sheridan knew more than he was telling her, and she didn't like being kept in the dark. When it became clear he wasn't going to pay any attention to her, she turned on her heel and strode from the interrogation room, forcing Sheridan to follow.

Lennier saw them leave the room and noted how neither looked happy, and he hesitated for a long moment. He knew he must complete his task, but then again, waiting a while longer, until they were in better moods, would not hurt. He was especially aware of how his news would affect Ivanova, and even he was wary of incurring her wrath. But there was no more time; it had to be now.

“Captain!”

Sheridan turned, surprised at being addressed, especially when he saw who was hailing him. Ivanova also looked surprised, and also wary. She had a strange sense of foreboding, like she knew what was coming.

“I must apologise if I was rude earlier,” Lennier said, making an effort to sound sincere. “There is something we need to discuss, especially in light of Kalain's presence.” Sheridan turned to glance at Ivanova, his eyebrows raised, but she didn't seem surprised at all. “It concerns...the reason you were sent here, the relocation of Commander Sinclair...and the reason we surrendered at the Battle of the Line.”

“Captain. _Captain_ Sinclair,” Ivanova murmured, looking at Lennier. The mention of Sinclair's name had jolted her through to her soul for unknown reasons, and she suddenly wished Garibaldi was with her because she knew that whatever they learnt next, she would need support that Sheridan couldn't give her.

Sheridan glanced again at Ivanova, slightly amused, but he didn't seem surprised that Lennier didn't know Sinclair was coming back and Ivanova was now certain he was hiding things from her. “Alright, Mr Lennier. If you'll follow me, please.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Stretching his arms and legs out in front of him, Sinclair rolled his neck as well, wincing a little as it clicked. Although the journey from Minbar to Babylon 5 was relatively short, he felt as though it was taking an age to reach his destination. He knew a large part of his problem was impatience, something he rarely succumbed to. Impatient to return to the station, to see his friends again...impatient to get on with his life while he still had it. He felt as though he had been given a second chance and he wasn't about to waste it.

Standing up, Sinclair walked aimlessly through the transport, eventually finding his way to the empty cargo hold. Thinking of the task ahead of him, he decided now was as good a time as any to start, as his first student would have to be himself. He was relatively fit, considering the largely sedentary role he played in his job, but he knew he would have to push himself to the extremes if he was to succeed; there was no way he could anyone else to do something he wasn't able or willing to do himself. Apart from not being in the role he found himself it, it also wasn't in his nature. Slowly he began to move around, stretching out his muscles properly, tapping a knowledge he didn't even know he had. He tried to keep his mind focused on what he was doing, but it wasn't easy; he was already trying to solve the problem of how he would manage relatively regular trips to Minbar without arousing suspicion in anyone, especially with Sheridan being onboard and Clark seemingly keeping a sudden watchful eye on him and Babylon 5.

Shaking his head, Sinclair paused to catch his breath and his eyes feel on a piece of discarded pipe. Reaching for it, he was surprised how natural it felt in his hands, how he adjusted his stance accordingly now he was armed. He was more aware of his body, his breathing, and his perception of everything around him seemed to instantly increase. His senses were keener, his reflexes sharper. As he moved fluidly around the cargo area, Sinclair began to think that maybe he was the right man for the job after all.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“So, Mr Lennier, what is it you want to tell us?” Sheridan asked politely once they were all seated in the office.

Lennier glanced at him, then focused on Ivanova. “After three years, the holy war which began with the murder of our leader, Dhukat, was almost over. We had pushed your forces all the way back to your home world, and our ruling body, the Grey Council, were present to oversee the final assault on Earth.” He looked away, and Ivanova dreaded what was to come next. “The Council decided to capture one of your fighters, to learn about the defences of Earth. It seems that Commander Sinclair was attempting to ram one of our cruisers, and for reasons unknown, the Grey Council chose him. This was the first time they would have direct contact with a human.” Now Lennier looked down, clearly uncomfortable with what he had to say. “He was interrogated, scanned...tortured.... During the course of the scan, the Council discovered something terrible. At first they refused to believe it, so they took in other humans and had them scanned as well. But it was true.”

Ivanova had almost stopped paying attention when she realised what she was hearing. One of those most important incidents in Sinclair's life – the missing twenty four hours of his life at the Battle of the Line – had suddenly been explained. Did he know what had happened to him? Had he ever remembered? She knew he had always struggled with it, but towards the end of last year, she had begun to suspect he was aware of his capture by the Minbari, whatever barriers they had put in place eroded and broken by the incidents Sinclair had been through lately. Her heart fractured at the thought of him being tortured, and by a race they now called 'friends'. And she wondered how much Delenn knew...knew and never told him. It was difficult to keep her emotions in check, and she was well aware of how she sounded when she spoke.

“What was true?” she asked, her voice soft, yet hoarse. Sheridan glanced at her, his concern evident on his face. He was relatively unimpressed with what Lennier had said so far, but he was worried how Ivanova would react to the news about Sinclair. He made a mental note to talk to her about it later, if he could...if she would let him in.

“We believe that each generation of Minbari is reborn in the following generations. Remove those souls and the whole suffers,” Lennier explained, and Sheridan shifted his attention back to him, interested now in what he was saying. “Over the last two thousand years, there have been fewer Minbari born into each generation and those who are born do not seem equal to those who came before. It is almost as if our greater souls have been disappearing.” He took a breath. “At the Battle of the Line, we discovered where those souls were going. They were going to you.”

Ivanova's mouth opened in shock. As if it wasn't bad enough to learn Sinclair had been captured and tortured, now she was being told that he also had part of a Minbari soul. Yet it explained so much.... How many times had he been told he talked like a Minbari? Or acted like one? Sheridan caught her reaction out of the corner of his eye, but he was too busy looking down, studying his hands. As soon as Lennier had started explaining about souls, he had a gut feeling where the conversation was heading and so he wasn't surprised by the outcome.

“So you stopped the war in order to stop harming your own souls,” Ivanova stated. “Minbari don't kill Minbari.”

Lennier inclined his head. “Yes. But the Council knew that our people, and yours, were not ready for this information. It could unravel both our societies. We had all memory of the incident erased from Sinclair's mind and...we let him go.” He glanced at them both. “It has been our secret, now it is yours. It must be kept.”

“Then why break the silence now? Why tell us?” Ivanova asked, frowning. Sheridan looked at her again, impressed with the way she was holding herself together and taking charge, but also a little put out. He hoped she would settle more once Sinclair returned. Speaking of which....

“Because changes are coming,” Lennier told them serious. “Commander Sinclair was the first, there will be more.”

Sheridan's link went off at that moment, and he moved to the other side of the room to answer it. Ivanova stared intently at Lennier, weighing up her next words. “He isn't a Commander any more.”

“I know.”

“Do you? I don't think you do. He is now a Captain, and he will be returning to Babylon 5 shortly to take up joint command with Captain Sheridan,” Ivanova replied, watching as Lennier's normally passive expression gave way to one of realisation and dread, and finally, shame. “It seems that President Clark changed his mind over reassigning him.”

“Are you sure?” Lennier couldn't help but ask. This was the first he had heard about it, and he was certain that had Hedronn known, he would have told him.

“Yes.”

“May I ask why the Minbari government was not told?”

“You can ask, Mr Lennier, but I'm afraid I don't have an answer for you,” Ivanova said, managing a small smile. “I only found out earlier myself.”

Lennier nodded and quickly regained his composure. “I see. If there is nothing else, I have things I must attend to.”

Ivanova stood with him. “Of course.”

She transferred her gaze to Sheridan, who was frowning slightly as he spoke. She couldn't hear what he was saying, but it was a reasonable bet it wasn't good news. Irrationally she wondered if there had been an accident with Sinclair's transport; for some reason, she wouldn't rule that possibility out, especially after what had happened with Santiago. If the people who killed him knew Sinclair could possibly point his finger directly at them.... She pulled herself back to the present as Sheridan walked over to her.

“So?” Ivanova asked.

Sheridan just looked back, confused. “So?”

Ivanova resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. “What do you think about what Mr Lennier just told us?”

“About the whole thing with us sharing Minbari souls?” Sheridan shook his head. “I'm not sure I'm buying it. You?”

“I don't know. It would certainly explain a few things.”

Sheridan stared at her, his eyes wide. “Ivanova, are you sure you're the same person I served with on Io?”

She ignored him. “I think it's a nice idea, at the very least. We wouldn't have to be afraid of losing the ones we care about.”

He made a negative noise. “I still don't buy it.”

“Clearly you haven't met Commander Sinclair before,” Ivanova said, his face appearing immediately in her mind's eye.

Sheridan's expression turned bemused as he replied, “ _Captain_.”

“Pardon, sir?”

“ _Captain_ Sinclair,” he corrected her again. “And we have met, a few times actually. First at the academy, he was a year ahead of me....” His face clouded and Ivanova knew the memories weren't particularly pleasant for him; she could have kicked herself for forgetting what Sinclair had told her about being hazed by the younger man. “The last time I saw him was during the Mars riots a few years back.” He grunted. “If the Minbari aren't happy to see me, Sinclair _definitely_ won't be happy to see me.”

“He might surprise you,” Ivanova said quietly. “I mean, you've both changed. Or at least I assume you have...?”

There was something in the way she left the question hanging that made Sheridan suspect she already knew about his antics in the academy, but he let it slide. “I know I have, and from what I've heard about Sinclair, so has he. But growing up and changing are not the same as forgiveness.”

She sighed. “I'm not sure I have the patience for this, sir.”

Sheridan spread his hands and smiled. “I'll try to play nicely. But....”

Ivanova's expression suddenly darkened somewhat. “Could you make sure that you do, sir? Please? At least until Mr Garibaldi wakes up. There will be a much better chance of stopping you and the C...Sinclair from killing each other with two of us on the job.”

Sheridan pretended not to notice her slip up; he was prepared for it happening, for a while at least. “How is he?”

“No change. Dr Franklin is at a loss as to how to bring him out of the coma.”

“Hmm. I'll make a point of going to see him later.”

Ivanova nodded. “Sir, is there something I should know about?”

Sheridan just looked at her, his expression closed. “Apparently we've detected a large ship coming through the jumpgate. We should probably head to C&C.”

His apparent nonchalance was almost the last straw, but he was moving out of the room before Ivanova could say anything else, and it was clear by his body language as they walked that at that moment, nothing was up for discussion. She bit her tongue and forcibly reminded herself that he was in charge; it wasn't easy. She hadn't realised how much she had changed in her time onboard Babylon 5 until Sheridan had arrived; before that moment, she thought it would be easy to serve under another CO after Sinclair. But now...now she wasn't so sure.

“Red alert all quarters,” Sheridan said as they walked onto the command deck. Ivanova clenched her jaw so hard it hurt; he didn't sound concerned that there was a Minbari war cruiser heading towards them on an attack vector with her gun ports open. He sounded more like he was having a day at the beach. She followed him closely, watching his every move, but she was well aware her expression spoke volumes, judging by the way the other crew members avoided her.

As she watched Sheridan dealing with the second-in-command of the Tregati, she couldn't help but compare him to Sinclair, and she started to realise just how different they were. The way Sheridan smirked throughout the conversation, the sheer nonchalance was almost overwhelming, and she couldn't tell if he really didn't care or he was just bluffing. And then when he asked what would happen if they refused to hand Kalain over...Ivanova could only stare at him with her mouth open, shocked. Sinclair had shown more restraint and diplomacy when Neroon had been onboard Babylon 5, and that was saying something.

“Sir, she's launching fighters,” she told him.

Sheridan made a face. “Recall your fighters. Any attack on this station will be considered an act of war.”

Ivanova looked at him then, surprised by his tone of voice; he really didn't want this to end violently, and once again she found herself confused by his actions. But moments later, when he told her that he was under orders not to tell anyone about what he knew concerning the Tregati and her motives, Ivanova understood. And though she felt like she should have been angry with him, she wasn't; she understood how hard it must have been for him to keep her in the dark. Her almost ever-changing opinion of Sheridan made sense now...or at least it did until he order their fighters to hold position.

“Sir, what are you doing?” Ivanova asked, shocked and angry all over again. “If they hold position, they're perfect targets.”

“Confirm the order. I know what I'm doing,” Sheridan replied without looking at her.

But she didn't. She continued to stare at him, wondering what was going through his head. With Sinclair, she could usually guess and even if she couldn't, she trusted him. But Sheridan...he was, after all, Clark's choice and there had to be a reason for that.

Sheridan wheeled suddenly. “Confirm it, dammit!” he snapped irritably. Her mistrust was glaringly obvious and while he didn't mind her loyalty to Sinclair clouding much of her judgement, he was still her superior officer regardless and should follow his orders as a junior officer should.

Ivanova couldn't manage to stop herself from having a dig at him about being rescued, and then she turned her full attention to what was happening outside, her panic barely held in check. She was completely unaware of Sheridan's own turmoil beside her; he was working off a hunch, nothing else. If he was right, then all would be okay. But if he was wrong....

“I...I don't understand. They passed our fighters...and now they're heading back to the Tregati,” Ivanova stated, stunned.

Sheridan let out a quiet sigh of relief and smiled. “I hoped they would. Remember I said about our ships being unable to lock onto the Minbari during the war?” Ivanova nodded. “So how come we can see them now? By forcing us to fire first, they would have become martyrs.”

“And because you fought them, you're a perfect target,” she said, complete realisation dawning on her.

Any further discussion was stopped by the destruction of the Tregati, and Ivanova was surprised how saddened she was by it. Stealing a sideways glance, she noticed Sheridan's unhappy expression as well. She didn't remember him being so complex before, and wondered how they were ever going to make it work without killing each other.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Captain Sinclair?”

Sinclair opened his eyes, taking a moment to focus on the Minbari in front of him and remember where he was. “Yes?”

“The information you requested from Babylon 5.”

“Thank you.” He studied the Minbari's expression more carefully. “Has something happened?”

The Minbari bowed his head. “It is...difficult. We suffered...a great loss today.” With that, he moved away.

Sinclair held the data crystal thoughtfully in his fingers, turning it slowly in circles before putting it into the port next to him. “Let's see what you've been doing, _Captain_ Sheridan,” he murmured.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Yes,” Sheridan said, staring at the medal in his hands. He didn't really want to be disturbed, but couldn't very well ignore the chimes.

“I thought I'd stop by and see if all your things arrived,” Ivanova said quietly as she walked in.

“Yes, yes. Everything present and accounted for,” he replied in a distracted voice.

The silence grew into epic proportions of oppressiveness before either of them really noticed, both lost in their own thoughts.

“Something wrong?”

“Is there a problem?”

Both smiled and shook their heads. “You first,” Ivanova said.

“No, no. You first.” She nodded, then gestured to the stool by the unit. “Sure.”

“I wanted to apologise for my behaviour since your arrival, sir,” she started, looking down at her hands. “I should have trusted that you knew what you were doing...and I didn't. I could have endangered everything and everyone by overriding your orders because I thought you were wrong. I'm glad I didn't. It's just....”

“Ivanova, stop. It's fine,” Sheridan told her in a kind voice. “I'm sorry I couldn't tell you everything when I arrived. Maybe it would have made things easier, I don't know. And I know how hard this has been on you in particular. Not just me arriving, but Sinclair leaving and then coming back, Garibaldi being in a coma, and then running this place on your own.... You forget, Sinclair and I both have you, Mr Garibaldi and Dr Franklin to rely on and help us...who did you have? I do understand. But....” He pointed at her. “...Just make sure it doesn't happen too many more time. Okay?”

Ivanova nodded. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“Good.”

“Now, your turn.”

Sheridan sighed and told her how he felt he had made a big mistake coming to Babylon 5, despite thinking it was a great opportunity when he was given his orders. He he felt responsible for all the trouble in the short time he had been there. “If Sinclair had been here instead, they might not have attacked,” he finished.

Ivanova frowned. “And maybe they would have. Did you know that last year we were threatened by a Minbari war cruiser?”

Sheridan seemed surprised. “No.”

Ivanova nodded. “One of their war leaders died and they were displaying his body to every Minbari community on the way back to Minbar. While here, Bremner's body disappeared, and Alit Neroon threatened to use his ship to 'take the station apart' to find the body.”

“Bremner?” Sheridan's face hardened. “How did Sinclair take that?”

Ivanova just glared at him. “How do you think? My point is...yes, they trust Sinclair, but only some of them. To others, he's still a human who fought against them. To some races, it doesn't matter who is in charge...it's the station they're interested in because of what it represents, not necessarily who's in charge.” She took a breath. “I learned a little while ago that there's enough guilt in the world going around without grabbing for more. Give yourself the benefit of the doubt?”

Sheridan smiled at her, grasping for something to say but words failed him. He was so unused to this side of Ivanova, but he was beginning to like it.

“Anyway, you'll be able to see soon enough whether I'm right or not. He should be back soon.” She swallowed her emotions and continued quickly. “Anyway, if you ever want to talk about this some more, you know where to find me. Any time.”

He smiled again and nodded. “Thanks,” he managed.

“I'm meeting Dr Franklin and Lieutenant Keffer for drinks in AirHarts later. Would you like to join us?”

“Just let me know the time and I'll be there,” he replied.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Lennier had lit a candle for Delenn and put it in front of her cocoon. He had told her that he had done his duty and how he wished he could have told the humans more. He told her his concerns and his fears, and felt better for talking to her.

Yet still he lingered.

There was something else he needed to say to her, that perhaps would give her both cause for hope and concern. He finally understood why she was so desperate to talk to Sinclair before she entered her cocoon, and why it had been so important for him to come to her on his own. But now everything had changed.

“There is something else, Delenn. As you know, Commander Sinclair was recalled to Earth a few days after the death of their President. But what I have only just found out is that he is returning to Babylon 5,” Lennier said quietly. “He is not being assigned to our world, as we had hoped. He is coming back here, and I don't yet know why. But I do know that he has been promoted to Captain, and apparently there is some...history between him and Captain Sheridan. I just thought you should know what was happening.” He sighed. “Good night, Delenn.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Stephen, glad you could make it,” Ivanova greeted Franklin with a warm smile.

“Nice to be invited,” he replied.

“Well, our list of people we wanted to spend time with was pretty short,” Keffer quipped.

Franklin mock-glared at him. “Thanks.”

Ivanova rolled her eyes. “Let's get a drink before you two start on each other properly.”

“This place sure is nice now,” Keffer said as they walked towards the bar.

“Definitely got a good atmosphere already,” Franklin agreed.

“It's nice to have a place that's just for us. I mean, I'm not saying that I mind the Zocalo or the casino, but it's way too easy for people to find us there.” Ivanova looked at them both. “What are you having?”

Keffer grinned. “You buying?”

“Just this once.”

“Special occasion?” Franklin asked mildly.

Ivanova just nodded. “Sure it.”

Neither man made a comment on her reply; they both understood why she was in such a good mood and they weren't about to spoil it. “So how was it to finally feel space under your feet on a mission, Warren?” Franklin asked the pilot.

“Oh, you know....” Keffer reached for his drink and the three of them started walking to find a table. “It was...different. I mean, I'm not saying that I mind looking an entire squadron of Minbari fighters right in the eye, and I'm not saying I mind sitting there with my weapons systems off waiting to be splashed....”

Ivanova listened to him grumble and couldn't help but smile, and when she glanced at Franklin, she saw his expression mirrored hers, though probably for different reasons. It wasn't that she wasn't happy in their company; in fact, the opposite was true. After everything that had happened recently, it was nice to just let her hair down – figuratively and literally – and relax properly in the company of those she was now comfortable with calling friends. And Keffer had proved to be an amiable companion; he could laugh at himself just as easily as he could tease others.

“So, what do you think of the new Captain?” he asked after a while.

“I haven't seen too much of him but what I have seen, I like. I think he'll be okay,” Franklin replied.

Ivanova kept quiet; her thoughts were solely on Sinclair now. Given time, Sheridan probably would settle into the role and life on the station well, but until then, she was the one who would have to keep a close eye on him. Franklin and Keffer didn't understand the inner turmoil she was experiencing, though Keffer probably had a better idea after being ordered not to fire while enemy fighters were approaching. Alone, Sheridan probably would be okay; but with Sinclair?

“Susan?” Franklin prompted her after her silence became suspiciously long.

Ivanova stared at the table. “I agree. He was supposed to meet us here for drinks,” she said quickly, before either of them could question her reaction. “I wonder what's holding him up.”

“Last time I saw him, he said something about a half hour for a good luck speech or it wouldn't count,” Franklin replied.

Ivanova closed her eyes and began to grin. “When was that?”

Franklin shrugged. “About twenty minutes ago.”

“Oh no. Of all the times he could've picked. I hope no one's on the observation deck right now,” she said, laughing and bumped Franklin's shoulder in a friendly way. Just then, her link went off. “Never fails,” she said, laughing again and shaking her head. “Ivanova.”

_“Lieutenant Commander, you wanted to be notified when Captain Sinclair's ship docked.”_

Her face changed instantly. “Yes. Yes, I did. Thank you.” With a determined expression on her face, Ivanova stood. “If you'll excuse me.” And with that, she strode purposefully from AirHarts.

Franklin watched her go and whistled; Keffer just shook his head. “Man, I wouldn't like to be in Captain Sinclair's shoes right now.”

“Me neither,” Franklin agreed wholeheartedly.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

The docking bay was empty when Sinclair stepped off the ship and he was glad. The events of the last week were still being logged by his brain and he found himself unable to catch up and fully comprehend what had happened. He had fully expected to never set foot on B5 again, to never see Ivanova or Garibaldi, or even Franklin, again. Then to be told he _was_ going back, and also being promoted, but was having to share command...with a man he hated, or used to, as well.... He didn't know how to feel about that. And then the summons to Minbar...the instructions he had been given, yet could share with no one, except Delenn, who was still in a cocoon...he presumed. Sinclair closed his eyes briefly, feeling the weight of the box he had also collected in his luggage, feeling it not only in his arm, but in his soul as well. Somehow, he knew his destiny was in that box, a destiny that would possibly shock every single being who knew about it.

But that was for later. Right now he wanted a shower and some sleep, then he had to catch up with what had happened on the station during his absence. Having heard whispers during his trip about the Tregati being involved, he knew he needed to talk to Ivanova and Sheridan, in that order, and soon. And then visit Garibaldi, and Delenn. Somehow, he couldn't help but wonder if perhaps he had been better off not coming back.

“You're late.”

From the tone of her voice, Sinclair could tell Ivanova was annoyed, though whether it was with him or not, he wasn't sure. An irrational surge of anger swelled in him as he thought about Sheridan being the cause of Ivanova's short temper; if that was the case, if he had upset her in anyway or given her a hard time about anything.... Sinclair felt his fists tighten.

“Sorry, I forgot to add 'Captain'.”

Catching the slightly amused tone in her voice now, he slowly he turned to look at her, and just in time, he decided, as she was suddenly in front of him, her arms going around his neck tightly. “Susan,” he murmured, thinking for one awful moment that something had happened to Garibaldi.

“I thought I would never see you again.”

“I'm sorry,” he whispered as he buried his face into her neck. “I didn't have chance to send you a message. I know I should have, but....” He pulled away to look deeply in her eyes. “Susan, there are ...many things I have learned since leaving and although I can tell you a few, there are some I can't tell you. Not yet, anyway.” He paused and if possible, his expression grew even more sorrowful. “Maybe not ever.”

Sinclair looked so forlorn and anguished that Ivanova couldn't be mad at him any longer. Instead, she cradled his face tenderly, softening her voice as she spoke. “I understand, Jeff. It's okay. I've learnt some things too while you've been gone...things we do need to talk about.”

He nodded, a strange sense of foreboding filling him. “I can guess what it is as well.”

“More than likely. But not here, not now. Later.” She took a deep breath. “Whatever you have to do, do it. I'll still be here.” Doubt flickered across her face, though she tried to hide it.

“Nothing has changed between us,” he told her firmly, reading her expression correctly. “I still feel the same way.” And with that, he closed the distance between them to kiss her briefly.

“We've got to stop doing that,” she chastised him gently. “Especially now there's...well, another Captain on the station.”

Instantly, Sinclair's face darkened and he scowled. “Where is he?”

“On the command deck, giving his speech,” Ivanova told him, then tried to change his mind from a course she knew he would already take. “We're having drinks in AirHarts...join us?”

He wondered why she was dressed so casually, not that he was complaining. “Maybe later. First I need to talk with Sheridan, then look in on Michael. Is he...?”

“Still in a coma.”

“And Delenn?”

Ivanova shrugged. “Who knows. And G'Kar is still missing too.” With a faint caress of his cheeks, she let her hands drop. “Look, why don't you come by my quarters after you've spoken with Captain Sheridan? It'll give us a chance to catch up in private, and I don't feel like going back to AirHarts now anyway.”

“If you're sure,” Sinclair said, smiling.

“I'm sure. Now go. And Jeff?”

“Yes?”

“Try to be nice to Captain Sheridan.”

“I'll do my best.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair waited outside C&C, leaning against the wall with his arms folded, watching as Sheridan gave a speech to an empty command deck. Part of him was glad about that. From his days at the academy, and the glimpses of Sheridan's career over the years, Sinclair knew he was quite a charismatic leader, and while the crew had grown used to his ways and respected him for it, a good speech always rallied the troops well, yet had never felt the need to give them. And while he was certain the crew members of the station were loyal to him, there was always a chance that Sheridan's words would win them over, and Sinclair knew that was the last thing he wanted.

“Captain Sinclair. I wasn't aware you had arrived back.”

Sheridan's voice cut through his thoughts, and he locked gazes with the younger man...with the other Captain. “Captain Sheridan,” he said in greeting.

Sheridan studied Sinclair carefully, took in his posture and guarded expression, and knew they were reflecting each other. He also thought back to his conversation with General Hague, about his assignment to Babylon 5, and he wondered how much Sinclair knew about it. Probably nothing; better to play it safe, to let their animosity play out. It would be far more convincing in the end. But Sheridan was also aware they still had a station to run; starting off on the wrong foot would only land them both in hot water with Ivanova at the very least, and he was willing to bet the other Captain wanted that as much as he did.

“Look, I know you're as unhappy about this as I am,” Sheridan said bluntly. “Probably more so. I wouldn't like it if someone was ordered in to share command with me.”

“That's exactly what you've been ordered to do; share command,” Sinclair replied in a cold voice. “But let's get one thing straight; this is my station. This is my crew. I'll tolerate your presence because I have to; don't get the impression at any time that I'm actually happy with it. And if I feel your actions at any point put this station and its inhabitants in danger, I'll relieve you of duty. Which brings me to the crisis I...missed. You acted irresponsibly, you put our pilots in unnecessary danger, not to mention everyone on the station.”

He had read the reports on the transport in, knew Sheridan had actually made a good judgement call, but he wasn't about to let him know that. He also had the feeling that Ivanova hadn't been too happy with his decisions either, but he would know for sure later.

Sheridan was less than happy with his admonishments, but he clenched his jaw and held his tongue. “Do you know why the Minbari surrendered in the war?” he asked suddenly, hoping to turn the tables on Sinclair.

“Humans have parts or whole Minbari souls,” Sinclair replied instantly. “And seeing as Minbari don't kill Minbari, they stopped the war. And they found that out by capturing and interrogating me.”

Sheridan was clenching his jaw so hard it hurt. There had been no mention of that in his report, and he knew Ivanova hadn't spoken to him yet, which could only mean that Sinclair had known before he had. “I wanted to talk to Ambassador Delenn about it, but her aide wouldn't let me more than two steps into her quarters.”

Finally, Sinclair smiled, though it was more of a smirk. “Really. How unfortunate. She's in a cocoon, you know. I've seen it up close, it's quite fascinating.”

“Well, I imagine you have a few things to do now you're back,” Sheridan said, grinding out the words. “I'll let you get on with them. Captain.”

“Captain,” Sinclair replied. He watched him go with hooded eyes, certain of one thing; this would be a short command for one of them. The question was, which one?

TBC


	27. 202 Revelations

_January 2259_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova paused briefly, breakfast tray in hand, as she scanned the mess hall for a table that would allow her an amount of privacy while she ate. Her eyes were dry and itchy from lack of sleep, her throat hoarse from talking, and there was a ringing in her ears that sounded suspiciously like Sinclair's voice. Since his return to the station, they had talked more than she ever had with any other person in her life, though not all of it had been good. In fact, at one point she had stormed out of his quarters and refused to talk to him for two days, though she had forgiven him eventually. While she was tempted to stay mad at him, she was also still painfully aware of how close she came to losing him and didn't want to waste any more time than necessary.

As she slumped into a chair, she was tempted to push her tray away and rest her head on her arms for a while. If she happened to fall asleep, all the better; no one would disturb her. But then Ivanova sensed a presence, was aware of Sinclair approaching before she ever saw his tall frame enter the mess hall. He looked as tired as she felt, but as he spotted her across the room, a flash of uncertainty crossed his features and she knew why.

_They had spoken of so many things, Ivanova was having a hard time keeping track of it all. It was difficult to know Sinclair was hiding things, though he had been as honest about it as he could be. But a lot of their discussions had been relatively mundane, concerned with the running of the station and its many inhabitants, much like before the assassination of President Santiago. It couldn't stay that way, though; both were aware there were more serious talks they needed to have._

_“What is it, Susan?” Sinclair asked, running his fingers lightly up and down her arm. They were curled up on the sofa together, having not spoken for a while._

_“You know why the Minbari surrendered, don't you.” Ivanova knew he knew; Sheridan had recounted their brief conversation to her, which had led to her storming out on Sinclair a few days before._

_“Yes, I do.” There was something in her voice, a half-hidden note that made the hair on the back of his neck stand straight up. “What else did Lennier tell you?”_

_Ivanova took his hands in hers and moved closer. “Jeff, I know...I know what happened at the Battle of the Line.” She felt him tense, could feel him closing himself off from her, but tried to ignore it. “I know that you were captured and tortured, and that is how the Minbari Grey Council discovered that we were sharing their souls. I don't think I'd have been convinced about that if I hadn't met you.” She paused, willing him to relax a little, but he wasn't having any of it. “I know for the longest time this has been a thorn in your side, but you know, in a way, you saved the entire human race. You saved Earth; you are a hero.”_

_“Tell that to the bastards who tried to fry my brain last year,” he said, his voice low and deadly._

_Ivanova pushed herself into a sitting position and cupped Sinclair's face, forcing him to look at her. “If I could cause them the same pain they caused you, I would do. Without doubt or hesitation.” She paused. “Captain Sheridan was also present at that meeting, you know.”_

_It took Sinclair a moment to realise what she was talking about; having her in such close proximity always distracted him, yet since his return, he couldn't get enough of her company, seeking it out more often than perhaps he should. “It doesn't seem to have changed his opinion of me.”_

_“Maybe you should give him a chance.”_

_Sinclair turned his face to kiss her palms. “Susan, let's not talk about this again.” Gently, he stood and walked over to the kitchen unit, placing his hands on the counter and bowing his head._

_“What is it, Jeff?” Ivanova knew there was something more going on, but nothing could have prepared her for what would come next._

_“You cannot tell anyone about this, Susan, not even Michael, though he already knows. I know you would be discreet, but if someone found out that we knew....”_

_When he turned, her breath caught in her throat; his face looked sunken in the shadows, his eyes black and almost lifeless, the pale light making his hair unnaturally white. Without thinking, Ivanova pushed herself from the sofa and strode across the room, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him to her. Sinclair responded with equal strength, still debating his decision to tell her the truth, but knowing deep down it was too late to back out now._

_Without letting go, he began to speak. “I always remembered fragments from when I was...taken, but they never made sense. Until the Knights captured me last year. Whatever they used on me must have weakened the blocks the Minbari put on my memories. Suddenly I could recall everything...well, almost everything. I didn't know about the souls until recently. But I remember being in the chamber of the Grey Council, remember them surrounding me, faceless grey hoods....” He took in a shaky breath and released it slowly. “I asked for answers, I staggered around until I was drawn to one of them, smaller than the rest. They made no attempt to stop me as I pulled their hood back from their face.... I didn't know who it was, couldn't have done. But now...now I know her, and I'm not sure what I'm supposed to think or feel.”_

_A cold knot of dread formed in Ivanova's stomach and this time it was her turn to tense. “Her? Surely you don't mean...Delenn?” Sinclair's silence was her answer. “Delenn is one of the Grey Council?! She was there while you were tortured?”_

_“I know, it doesn't make sense with the Minbari we know,” Sinclair said as though he could read her thoughts. “I don't know how much of a role she played in what happened, or in the war at all. Maybe she was against it, I just don't know. Before she went into the cocoon, Delenn wanted to talk to me, to give me answers. I guess I got them anyway.”_

_There was something in his voice Ivanova couldn't quite identify. “Do you believe that?”_

_“I-I don't know. I still feel like I'm missing something about all of this.”_

_“Maybe you should stop looking,” she suggested quietly. “They always say 'be careful what you wish for'. Maybe it's time to let the past rest, Jeff.”_

_He pulled back long enough to look at her face. “Maybe you're right,” he replied softly, lowered his head until their lips met._

“Lieutenant Commander,” Sinclair greeted her. “May I?”

Ivanova had no real reason to refuse him, except wanting a little time to herself. She was overjoyed to see Sinclair back, no doubt about it, but it seemed they had spent more time than normal together since his return and especially after last night's revelation about Delenn, she was ready for some time alone to process everything. Yet something told her that saying that to Sinclair would only hurt him, especially while Garibaldi remained in a coma.

“Of course, Captain,” she replied

He sat opposite her and made a show of eating his breakfast. “Did you sleep well?”

“Not really. You?”

He shook his head. “Strange as it sounds, I'm having trouble settling back in.”

“I'm sure once Mr Garibaldi is back on his feet, things will start to look up,” Ivanova assured him, attempting a smile.

Sinclair started to smile back but the expression froze on his face as his gaze landed on someone entering the mess hall. “I doubt that.”

Ivanova knew who it was, but turned anyway. “Captain Sheridan,” she called, gesturing for him to join them.

Sheridan grinned in greeting and weaved his way through the tables, ignoring Sinclair's scowl. “Good morning, Lieutenant Commander. Captain.”

“Captain,” Sinclair managed in a barely civil tone.

Ivanova glared at him from across the table. “What time is the council meeting?” she asked.

“Nine,” Sinclair replied, his tone clearly indicating he wasn't looking forward to it.

Sheridan caught that immediately. “Problem?”

“G'Kar is still missing, Delenn is in a cocoon. That only leaves Ambassador Kosh, who never says anything, and Londo, who...well, Londo says everything, none of it remotely important at the moment.”

“Captain Sinclair, the council meetings are greatly important,” Sheridan told him. “Even if the issues being discussed seem trivial to us, they are probably pretty damned important to those who have raised them.”

Sinclair raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Well, Captain, if you feel so strongly about this, you can go.” He stood and picked up his tray. “If you'll both excuse me, I have things to do.”

Sheridan watched him go, then turned to Ivanova. “He was joking...right?”

Ivanova sighed. “No.”

“What?! But _I_ was joking!”

“It would appear that Captain Sinclair has yet to unpack his sense of humour.”

Sheridan scowled. “Is his mood likely to improve when Mr Garibaldi wakes up?”

“If,” Ivanova corrected him, her tone distant. “And that, sir, is a very good question.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair was well aware of how childish and petty he was being, but for some reason he just couldn't stop himself. The whole notion of having someone else - _anyone_ else – running the station with him rankled him; even if had been Ivanova, he knew he would have reacted the same. It wasn't simply that Babylon 5 was such a prime job; for some reason, he felt a deep connection to the station and he took his responsibility of caring for it and all those on board very seriously. To Sheridan, it was just a job; to Sinclair, it was a calling.

“Good morning, Comm...I'm sorry, Captain,” Franklin said as he walked into med lab. “You're early.”

“How is he, Doctor?” Sinclair replied.

Franklin sighed. “The same. I'm almost out of options.”

Sinclair just nodded, having no words for the doctor. Instead he walked closer to the iso unit and stared forlornly at his friend through the glass. As always when he saw Garibaldi so helpless, he felt his anger start to well up, a violent rage that was burning him from the inside out, and he clenched his fists. It was all Sheridan's fault.

_No, it isn't. Stop it. Be rational if you can't be reasonable. Give him a chance to prove himself different; give him a chance to prove he's on your side._

Sinclair closed his eyes and forced himself to open his hands. Usually his conscience sounded like Ivanova, so much so that he often thought she had said something to him while they were together when in reality it was just in his mind. But today it had sounded like Garibaldi, and he couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not.

“Keep me posted, Doctor,” Sinclair said, turning and walking from med lab.

Franklin watched him go with a frown. He had an idea, one that would certainly save Garibaldi's life, so why had he been so hesitant to mention it to the man's best friend?

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan pulled at his dress uniform for the tenth time and pulled a face. “Okay, Sinclair, you win. I get it now,” he muttered to himself. “Glorified diplomat...politician...whatever. I feel like that too. Maybe we can share.”

He had been pissed at the other Captain for making him attend the council meeting; even though he knew it was technically part of his job description, he had to admit he had been happy enough to leave it all to Sinclair, claiming he had 'more experience'. It was horse hockey and they both knew it, but Sheridan wasn't quite ready to commit to being less of a soldier and more of a bureaucrat. Now he realised how unfair his decision had been, though he doubted Sinclair would appreciate his revelation.

“Ah, Captain Sheridan, I presume. I was wondering when you would be gracing us with your presence.”

Pulling out a diplomat's smile, Sheridan turned. “Ambassador Mollari,” he greeted the Centauri.

Londo smiled back. “I was beginning to think that perhaps you were myth, something Lieutenant Commander Ivanova made up on a whim.”

“I wasn't aware Lieutenant Commander Ivanova had a sense of humour,” Sheridan replied straight-faced.

“True, it is something more of Mr Garibaldi's style. Speaking of which, how is he?” There was a genuine trace of concern in his voice which made the Captain reconsider his opinion of the Centauri.

“The same. But Dr Franklin hasn't given up on him yet.”

“If anyone can save him, it is the good doctor.” Londo's focus suddenly shifted, as did his expression. “Ah, Na'toth, so good of you to join us. And will Ambassador G'Kar be gracing us with his presence today as well?” The Narn looked at him only to glare briefly, then took the chair at the far left of the table, not even acknowledging Sheridan. Lennier followed seconds later, pausing to bow to both men before sitting on Na'toth's right. “And Mr Lennier, I see we must suffer another day without Ambassador Delenn's delightful presence.”

Despite the glimmerings of concern for Garibaldi shown earlier, Sheridan was forced to revert to his original opinion of Londo, which was that he liked the sound of his own voice but wasn't much more than a puppet for higher powers. As the Centauri ambassador was distracted, he slipped away and was taking his place in the centre chair just as Kosh came in. This was the first time he had seen the Vorlon ambassador in such close quarters and he froze, unable to stop himself from staring. Kosh seemed oblivious to the scrutiny as he glided across the room to take his place by the far wall, Sheridan's eyes following his every move...or lack thereof.

“Captain, is there something wrong with your chair?” Lennier asked in a politely concerned voice.

Sheridan hesitated before turning, his brain not instantly registering that the Minbari was talking to him. “Ah...no. No problem at all. Well, now that we're all here, shall we begin?”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

When Franklin heard someone entered the med lab, he looked up out of habit. He knew it wasn't Sinclair returning, it was way too early for Ivanova, and he doubted it would be Sheridan. Londo hadn't visited since Garibaldi had first been shot, and he doubted G'Kar would come by, if he was back from his wanderings. Talia had no reason to visit and neither did Lennier. So when the doctor saw Earthforce blue beneath tired blue eyes, his eyebrows climbed upwards.

“Lieutenant Commander, is there a problem?”

“Not at all, Doctor.” Which meant _'Yes, but I will not talk about it.'_ “I know I'm earlier than usual, but I just needed to see him.”

Franklin wisely chose not to ask why. “He's doing the same as yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that....” He trailed off and spread his hands. “As I told Captain Sinclair earlier, I'm running out of options.”

Ivanova tried not to bristle at the mention of Sinclair's name. With him not in the council meeting, she had assumed he would catch up on other tasks which required his attention, but it hadn't been so. Instead, wherever she had gone, he was there and his constant presence was starting to annoy her.

“There has to be something, Doctor,” she said, looking at Garibaldi.

Franklin hesitated. “I do have an idea, but it's dangerous, not to mention...well, not exactly illegal, but it's not a standard procedure either.”

Ivanova gave him a sharp look, reading him correctly. “Why didn't you mention this to Sinclair earlier?”

“I don't know, I just...didn't.” He sighed. “Captain Sinclair and I haven't always seen eye-to-eye, as you're well aware. And since his return, he's been...different. To be honest, I wasn't sure what he'd made of the idea.”

“Which is?”

“Do you remember that alien device which came into my possession towards the end of last year?”

Ivanova nodded. “You're not thinking of using it, are you?”

“Susan, Michael is not coming out of that coma on his own,” Franklin said gravely. “This is the only option left to us. But to use it, I need permission.”

“Which you could have asked Sinclair for.”

He sighed. “I wasn't sure he would give it to me. At the same time, he would be the logical choice because of his friendship with Garibaldi, but he also might be inclined to do something....”

“Stupid?” Ivanova supplied.

Franklin's lips twitched upwards in a smile. “I was going to say 'heroic'....”

“Stupid,” she said forcefully. “Say what you mean, Doctor.” She frowned thoughtfully. “I would ask Captain Sheridan. You don't have any negative history with him, you seem to get along well with him so far....”

“And you want to know he can be trusted,” Franklin finished in a slightly distasteful tone.

The look Ivanova gave him wasn't hostile, as he was expecting, but tinged with sadness and weariness. “No, Stephen. I know he can be trusted. But I want Captain Sinclair to see that as well.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Granted, there were times when he complained about being the last to know things on the station, but sometimes Franklin was glad that he was stuck in med lab. From what he had managed to pick up, it seemed that things between Sinclair and Sheridan were going to get a lot worse before they improved, if they improved at all, and he wasn't entirely sure that adding Garibaldi into the mix was a good idea. Not only was the security chief extremely paranoid and distrustful, he was also one of Sinclair's closest friends; the chances of him easily accepting Sheridan as a commanding officer were slim.

“Why didn't you ask me?”

Sinclair's voice made Franklin shoot straight up in the air, rotating at the same time. “Captain! What are you...?”

“I'm disappointed in you, Stephen. Going behind my back to ask Sheridan's permission over this instead of mine?” His voice was hard, but there was genuine hurt there too.

“I couldn't find you,” Franklin said, feeling the need to protect Ivanova from all this.

Unfortunately, that seemed to be the wrong thing to say. Though the doctor couldn't have known, Sinclair took it as a silent dig that he had been spending too much time around Ivanova since he returned, a fact he was certain wouldn't have gone unnoticed by everyone and it seemed he was right.

“Bullshit,” Sinclair snapped, and Franklin blanched in shock. “You could have raised me on the link without problem, Doctor, so I'm going to ask you again – why did you go to Sheridan and not me? Michael's my best friend....”

“That's why I didn't mention it to you,” he replied truthfully. “I didn't want you to take matters into your own hands. Sir.”

Sinclair chewed on that for a while. “You mean stupid.”

“I didn't say that.”

“I know.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I'm sorry, Stephen. It's just...I want him back, like he was before.”

“And hopefully this machine will do that,” Franklin replied, accepting the apology with a smile.

“Did Sheridan give his permission?”

“Yes, he did.”

Sinclair turned to see Sheridan walking in, removing his jacket and rolling his sleeves up as he went. “Captain.”

“Captain.”

Franklin watched them sizing each other up like prize fighters in the ring and he resisted the urge to shake his head. Maybe he was the only one who could see how alike they actually were, and what they could achieve once they realised it was better to work together. But it was there. They just needed to see it for themselves.

“So, is this the machine?” Sheridan asked.

Franklin nodded. “I was just about to hook myself up....”

“Absolutely not.”

“I don't think so.”

Sheridan and Sinclair objected at the same time and looked at each other in wary amusement. Franklin now had to resist the urge to smile. “Well, someone has to....”

“I'll do it,” Sinclair said. “That's why I came.”

“Me too,” Sheridan replied.

“But...,” Franklin started to object.

“Look, someone needs to monitor us, and Mr Garibaldi, and I don't know about you, Captain Sheridan, but my medical skills are pretty non-existent.”

“I have a decent bedside manner, but that's about it,” Sinclair agreed grudgingly.

“So we'll share the time on the machine and the doctor can monitor us to make sure everything's happening the way it should.”

For a moment, Sinclair glimpsed something in Sheridan he didn't want to see but couldn't ignore. Not everyone would have risked their lives to save a man they didn't know. “Captain, you don't have to do this.”

Sheridan just looked at him. “Do you want to flip a coin to see who goes first? Or maybe you'd prefer rock-paper-scissors?”

“We could arm wrestle,” Sinclair suggested.

Franklin couldn't believe what he was hearing, and the worst part was that he knew they would go straight back to hating each other after this. “Enough! We're wasting time,” he said forcefully, and pointed to Sinclair. “You go first, ten minutes. Then you, Captain. If that works, we'll increase the time blocks. Well, what are you waiting for?”

“Never argue with the doctor,” Sheridan said, moving out of the way.

“I hope you appreciate this, Michael,” Sinclair grumbled as he slid the machine over his hand.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“So...let me get this straight.”

Sinclair sighed, his long legs stretched out in front of him as he reclined in his favourite chair. Ivanova was perched on a stool by the kitchen unit and her distance bothered him. “It isn't that complicated, Susan.”

She glared at him. “You want to space Sheridan....”

“That's a complete exaggeration.”

“...And then suddenly, you're joking around with him!”

“I wouldn't go that far.”

She continued to glare. “You can get along for something like this, but not any other time of the day. Why?”

Sinclair shrugged, weary after being drained by the machine. It had taken more out of him and Sheridan to heal Garibaldi than any of them had expected, but hopefully it had been worth it. “Just one of those things.”

“It was stupid!”

“Susan, it had to be done.”

“But not by you!” she exclaimed.

He looked at her long and hard. “Is that what this is about? Are you angry with me?” he asked, surprised.

“That machine is dangerous, Jeff, you know that as well as I do,” Ivanova replied, surprised herself by her outburst.

“So it was alright for Sheridan, and probably Franklin, to hook themselves up to it, but not me. Because that's what would have happened if I hadn't gone to med lab.”

“I know.”

Sinclair continued to look at her. “You know.”

“Stephen didn't want to mention it to you because he didn't want you to take matters into your own hands....”

“Which he told me.”

“And I suggested he was better off asking Sheridan's permission.”

“Why, Susan?” Sinclair asked, frowning.

Ivanova held herself firm. “So you could see he could be trusted.”

There was something going on which Sinclair could sense but couldn't understand, and if he couldn't understand it, he couldn't fix it. Ivanova seemed to be drifting again from him and as before, he didn't know why. “Susan, I'm not angry,” he said quietly, knowing she would interpret his silence that way. “I was angry with Stephen before, but now I understand better why and I'll apologise again when I see him. I just want Michael back, and yes, I would probably have been inclined to do something stupid to save him, but Sheridan helped me with that. And yes, I'm revising my opinion of him slowly. But it's going to take a little more time. Can you understand how difficult this is for me? You know how hard I've had to fight to keep this position, only to be told I have to share it. It isn't easy.”

He held his hands out to her and with only a small amount of reluctance, Ivanova stood and laced her fingers with his, tugging him into swapping his chair for the sofa so they could sit together. “I understand, Jeff, but this isn't easy on me either. You might see it as some school yard quarrel, but to me, it's a lot more serious. I'm your XO, like I'm Sheridan's; if either of you show yourselves to be inadequate to the task, it's my job to tell someone. I haven't asked since you got back, but now I feel I have to; are you up to the job, Jeff? Was Hague right in sending you back?”

Sinclair held her closely, mulling over her words. “Yes, Susan, Hague has the right man in me. And yes, I am more than capable of doing this job properly. Thank you for bringing my attention back to what matters.”

“It's my job.” Ivanova leant up and kissed his jaw.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“How is your sister enjoying her stay?” Ivanova asked Sheridan, turning in her chair to look at him.

“Just fine, thanks.” He smiled back, but she thought there was a tightness in his features which meant not everything was okay.

Sinclair glanced over the command deck from his elevated position in the 'office' space. “I didn't know your sister was onboard, Captain,” he said in a neutral tone. “Perhaps you'd care to introduce us.”

Sheridan looked at him, frowning slightly. “And why would I want to do that, Captain?”

Sinclair just smiled at him. Ivanova knew what he was playing at and didn't even bother to stop herself from rolling her eyes, though she did quell the brief surge of jealousy in her chest. She knew he was just needling Sheridan, but the fact that he might consider even _looking_ at another woman made her blood boil.

_“Franklin to Ivanova.”_

Glad of the distraction, she lifted her hand. “Ivanova, go.”

_“I think you and the Captains need to get down to med lab. Garibaldi's awake.”_

“On our way.”

Sinclair's expression was as expected; relieved, happy, and determined. His friend was awake, he had his left arm back, and between them they could find the son-of-a-bitch who had put him in this position. Revenge would be sweet. Sheridan's face was harder to read; he too looked relieved that their gamble had paid off, but there was a hardness in his features which suggested he already knew what was going through Sinclair's mind and wasn't relishing the idea of trying to stop him. Ivanova just wanted to cry.

Their trip from the command deck was undertaken in silence and when they reached med lab, Sheridan hung back a little. Ivanova stood by Garibaldi's shoulder, one hand on his arm, the other covering his hand, smiling down at him through the tears. Sinclair stood next to her, close but not touching, his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face.

“Garibaldi? How'd you feel?” Ivanova asked him gently.

He look grey and ashen, but shook off her question with a shake of his head. “Not important. Did you stop them? They're going to kill the President.”

“Easy, Michael,” Sinclair said, reaching round and putting his hand on his friend's shoulder. “The President is dead. Earth dome is saying it was an accident.”

“No, no, no, not an accident.”

Sheridan's expression was closed off as he listened to what was being said. He had heard the rumours, but until now hadn't believed them, yet it seemed clear that somehow, so far from Earth, the officers of Babylon 5 had potentially discovered something devastating. And he knew if he wanted to find out more, he had to try harder to integrate himself with them, to earn their trust, and then maybe.... Straightening a little, he took a step forward.

“Let it go, Michael,” Sinclair told him, his voice heavy with undertone.

Garibaldi looked at him, then Ivanova, then Franklin. “What the hell is going on, Jeff?”

“President Clark felt that some...changes were necessary. I'll fill you in on all the details later when you're feeling up to it, but for now let me introduce you to your new joint CO.”

Garibaldi's expression barely wavered as he digested what Sinclair had just told him and as Sheridan came into view. “I don't know you,” he said flatly.

It was a better welcome than he had expected, and Sheridan just smiled a little and shook his head. “No, you don't, but I'm hoping that won't be a problem. Captain John Sheridan.”

Sensing an explosion and clash of personalities waiting to happen, Ivanova rubbed Garibaldi's arm to bring his attention back to her. “Did you see who shot you, Garibaldi? We tried to find answers, but without your investigative skills....” She shrugged and smiled.

He held her gaze for a long moment. “I've been trying, but no. I don't remember anything.”

In the background, Jack relaxed his grip on his PPG and strode from med lab.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Ah, Ambassador G'Kar, back from your travels, I see.”

For Londo, seeing the Narn brought to him a sense of normality, which he found he had been sorely missing. He had wanted changes, yes, but not as quickly as they had happened. Not only with his own life, but with Delenn being unavailable and the change in command of the station, it felt like things were spiralling out of control.

But as G'Kar turned to look at him, Londo realised that perhaps normality was something he would never experience again, and as the Narn told of the approaching darkness, and even going so far as to ask for his help, Londo couldn't help but feel lost.

“Well, you have missed certain goings on here as well,” Londo said, trying to keep his voice light.

G'Kar looked at him curiously. “Such as?”

Londo spread his hands. “Where do I start? Well, you know that Mr Garibaldi was shot, yes?”

“Yes. Is he...?”

“Very recently awakened,” Londo assured him. “A miraculous recovery, it seems, with a little help from the Captains, from what I have heard.”

G'Kar frowned. “The Captains?”

“Ah. You haven't heard. Well, after the death of their President, Commander Sinclair was recalled to Earth most suddenly, and you can only imagine how Lieutenant Commander Ivanova was in his absence.”

G'Kar barely repressed a shudder. “So glad I missed that. So Sinclair is gone, then?” he asked, a note of sadness colouring his voice.

“Not exactly. It seems that for some reason, the new Earth President feels that a stronger Earthforce presence is needed on the station, so he sent newly promoted Captain Sinclair back, and also a new Captain, Sheridan, to join him.”

Now the Narn stopped walking. “Two Captains? Here?” The frown returned and deepened. “That is a most unusual play for the Earthers. Do you know any more on this matter?”

Londo shook his head. “No, and my sources have yet to uncover anything at all. But now that you are back, perhaps you could...?”

“I will see what I can do,” G'Kar promised. “Anything else?”

“Delenn is in a cocoon.”

G'Kar stopped walking again. “A cocoon?”

Londo nodded and clasped his hands behind his back. “A cocoon.”

“Is she...?”

“Alive, as far as anyone knows. Which isn't a great deal, believe me.”

“So much has happened in such a short space of time. It makes me worry what will occur in the future.”

Cold dread washed over Londo, fear and despair gripping him so tightly that he couldn't breathe, yet he couldn't explain what had caused the feelings either. “Yes, well.... I will see you at the council meeting, G'Kar.”

As the two separated, Kosh appeared from around a corner, and if he could have shaken his head, he would have. As much as he wanted to save Londo, the Centauri was running out of options.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Franklin was just on his way out of med lab as Sinclair was coming in. “Ah, Captain. Is everything okay?”

“I just thought I'd spend a little time with Michael, if that's alright with you, Doctor,” Sinclair replied with a smile.

“Sure. Just don't tire him out too much, okay?”

He nodded, then noticed what Franklin was carrying. “Problem?”

“Just need to make a house call, that's all,” he replied.

Sinclair sensed there was more to it but knew better than to probe. “Don't let me keep you, Stephen.”

Garibaldi's eyes were closed as Sinclair approached, but they flew open when he neared the bed, and there was no hiding the momentary flicker of fear. “Hey Jeff, how's it going?”

“You know, all the fun of the fair.” He smiled. “How are you?”

“Doing better. Listen, Stephen said that you and Sheridan hooked yourselves up to that alien machine to save me. I...I owe you, Jeff. Both of you. Thanks.”

“Don't thank me, I'll collect on the debt one day instead,” Sinclair replied, smiling.

“So, you gonna tell me what's going on or should I just guess?”

“I'll tell you, save us both the headache.” As succinctly as possible, and omitting a few things, he filled his friend in on what had been happened. “Oh, and before I forget, that thing I asked you to investigate a while back involving...my past? Susan knows as well. With everything that's come to light, it was unavoidable.”

Garibaldi knew that wasn't true but also knew better than to press the issue. “So Sheridan's here permanently? That'll be fun.”

“Not if I can help it,” Sinclair murmured, and Garibaldi wasn't sure if he was answering the question or the statement. “Michael, I know you said you don't remember who shot you, but was it one of the men you arrested?”

He shook his head. “The three of them were in front of me. The shot came from behind. It was someone else, I just don't know who.”

Sinclair could feel his blood boiling. Not only had they failed to save the President, but they had almost lost Garibaldi and now he knew that the person responsible could still be roaming freely around the station. “We'll find them, Michael, I promise.”

Garibaldi shook his head again. “Best not to get mixed up in this, Jeff. From the sounds of it, you're under closer scrutiny than you were before. Leave it to me.”

“Anything you need?”

“Yeah, get Lou Welch to stop by as soon as possible, will ya?”

“I'll do it now,” he said. As he raised his hand, though, his link went off. “Sinclair.”

_“Sheridan. Captain, Ambassador G'Kar has convened an emergency council meeting. Apparently he has some urgent news he wants to share. I think we should both be there.”_

Sinclair wanted to tell him where to shove his idea, but held his tongue. If G'Kar's first act upon his sudden return to the station was to call a meeting, there must be a good reason for it and he wanted to know why. “I have to go, Michael. You take it easy so you can get back on your feet. I'll send Officer Welch down.”

“Thanks, Jeff,” Garibaldi said. “Oh, and Captain?”

Sinclair turned, amused. “Yes?”

“Watch your back.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“How did the council meeting go?” Ivanova asked. She was seated in the office with both Captains, who wore an almost identical expression on their faces, one she couldn't properly identify.

“I'm not sure,” Sheridan admitted. “G'Kar tried to warn us about some ancient threat, though his evidence was flimsy at best, but he said he'd sent a ship to investigate. And that was it.”

“He said dead worlds once inhabited by evil forces were inhabited once more,” Sinclair said. “And the ship was being sent to investigate the main homeworld of this...race.”

Ivanova was silent for a moment. “What was the name of the world?”

Sinclair and Sheridan exchanged a look; both had been aware of the other's reaction upon hearing the name in the council chamber. “Za'ha'dum,” Sinclair replied, the word sounding like a death knoll.

“It's out on the rim,” Sheridan added, his voice low and more gravelly than normal.

“Never heard of it,” Ivanova said lightly.

Their reactions worried her, but she didn't couldn't know all of it. When Sheridan had heard the name, he felt a strong sense of gravity pulling him down into a dark bottomless pit, heat scorching his hands and his face, the acrid smell of burning filling his nostrils. It was an unreal sensory overload, and not like anything he had ever experienced before. A normally practical man, his head just couldn't cope with the premonition he had experienced. Sinclair, however, had no trouble accepting what he had seen and felt; he knew in his heart, in his bones, and in his soul that it was the truth. That it was the path which had now been laid before him. Perhaps before, it would have been different, but now...now there was no turning back. But more than that, he knew that he and Sheridan had to work together if they were going to succeed; they had to put aside their differences and become something more than comrades, or even friends.

“So what do we do now?” Ivanova asked when the silence had stretched on for too long.

“Nothing,” Sheridan replied. “Nothing to do. In fact, I'm going to go and spend some time with my sister. If you'll excuse me.”

“Do you think G'Kar is right? Do you think some ancient evil has reappeared?”

Sinclair looked at her across the table. “He believed it enough to disappear without a word to anyone in search of it,” he replied. “Belief can be a powerful thing.”

Ivanova glared at him. “That doesn't answer my question.”

“I have to admit, I agree with Sheridan on this. I'm a little sceptical.”

“Why the sudden change of mind about Captain Sheridan?” she asked curiously.

“Because you were right, I should give him a chance. And because he helped to save Michael's life.”

“How's he doing?”

“Better, but he'll be better still once we know who did this to him.” Sinclair link went off. “Sinclair.”

_“Captain, this is Officer Welch. Talia Winters wants to see you, says it's urgent. It's a Dodgers thing.”_

“Bring her by quarters immediately, and thank her for reminding me. I'd almost forgotten.” He closed the channel and stood.

“Was that code or something?” Ivanova asked jokingly.

But Sinclair's expression was serious. “Yes. I'm willing to bet whoever shot Garibaldi is still on the station and they could be monitoring communications. I don't want to take any chances.”

“So that message meant....”

“I think Michael wanted Talia to help him, and it seems she found something related to his shooting.”

Ivanova's eyebrows rose steadily. “Even if she did, it won't be admissible in court, you know that.”

“And so does Garibaldi, but do you really think he cares?” Sinclair asked her. Impulsively, he gave her a quick kiss. “I'll let you know what happens.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

It was unthinkable and hurtful, and as his fist connected with Jack's jaw, Sinclair wanted nothing more than to pummel him until there was nothing left but bone under his fingers. “Haul him to his feet,” he ground out between clenched teeth.

Welch obliged and wasn't too gentle about it either. “Resist. Go on. Make my fraggin' solar year!” he snapped at Jack.

It seemed luck more than anything that enabled Garibaldi to access a reflection of Jack's face in his memory, with Talia's help. And it had seemed even easier to lure Jack out of the office to arrest him. Part of Sinclair felt it was too easy, but in that moment he was too furious to think straight.

“Hold him,” he ordered Welch, and hit Jack again.

“Sir, why don't you take a walk around the block?” Welch suggested, reading the murderous intent in Sinclair's eyes. Not that he didn't feel the same, but he knew it would be better for him to be disciplined over this than Sinclair. “Several times, if you feel like it. Leave him to us. We'll do right by the Chief, and you, sir.”

The red haze cleared a little and Sinclair smiled in grim appreciation at Welch, understanding what he was doing. “Thank you, Officer, that's a good idea. I could do with stretching my legs.”

“I don't think leaving him is a good idea,” Sheridan interrupted, hurrying down the corridor.

Sinclair wheeled on him. “Stay out of this, Sheridan, it doesn't concern you.”

“Actually, it does. You can't do this, Sinclair, and you know it.”

“You want us to leave him to you, sir?” Welch asked, looking at Sinclair and then Sheridan uncertainly.

“No, that won't be necessary, but thank you for your...enthusiasm,” Sheridan said. “Take him to a holding cell...unharmed.”

Welch wasn't happy about the development, and he could see Sinclair was fit for chewing asteroids, but he did as he was told. “Yes, sir.”

“What the hell are you doing, Sheridan?” Sinclair demanded to know, his fists balled up tightly.

“Saving your career, though I don't know why seeing as you seem hell bent on destroying it!” Sheridan snapped back. “Ivanova told me you'd found out who was responsible for shooting Garibaldi, it didn't take a great leap of imagination to know what you planned to do.” He paused to take a deep breath. “Look, I know Mr Garibaldi is your friend, I get that. But Jack is responsible for attempted murder, and is possibly involved in the murder of President Santiago as well. This isn't something we can deal with on our own, and you know it. Be sensible, Captain Sinclair.”

Sinclair poured all of his anger and hatred into one single glare, actually forcing the other man back a step. “Get out of my way, Captain Sheridan.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Garibaldi knew the moment Sinclair walked into med lab that something was wrong. “Did you get him?”

Sinclair nodded. “Then Sheridan turned up and took charge. Ordered him to be treated gently. Kid gloves. Bullshit!”

Garibaldi's eyebrows shot up. “Take it easy, Jeff. You're going to have to get used to things like this happening. I know it ain't easy, but this wasn't your fault.”

“It's not that, it's....” He sighed and dropped into a chair. “I don't know where Ivanova's loyalties lie.”

“What?!” His eyes flickered over Sinclair's head. “Hi, Ivanova.”

The Captain closed his eyes. He didn't want to deal with this right now. “Hi, Garibaldi. Having fun lounging in bed?”

“Oh yeah, it's a real circus,” he replied, rolling his eyes.

Ivanova's smile didn't reach her eyes, then she looked at Sinclair. “Sir, Captain Sheridan wanted to see you. Something about telling the President what has happened.”

“Fine. See you later, Michael.” He left without a word or glance to Ivanova.

“What did you do?” Garibaldi asked her.

“I told Captain Sheridan that Sinclair knew who had shot you. He put the rest together himself,” Ivanova replied.

Garibaldi smiled sadly. “I don't blame you, Ivanova, I really don't. You did what you had to do. But Jeff...he won't see it that way, not for a while. You've got to try and see things from his point of view, though.”

“Garibaldi, I've been trying, but you have no idea what it's been like with him and Sheridan while you've been...unconscious,” she said, emotion showing through.

He smiled properly this time. “So tell me. I've got the time.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

_“I want him on the first shuttle out, Captain. And I want all transcripts, vid and background material sent with him. I need to have everything right at my fingertips,”_ Clark ordered.

Sheridan was glad he had turned around; he wasn't sure he could keep the emotions from his face or hide the obvious jaw clenching. But he could only keep up that pretence for so long; now he fixed his poker face back in place and turned round. “Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”

_“Good work on this, Sheridan, to you and your security chief. And Captain Sinclair, as well._

Sheridan didn't like the addition of Sinclair as an afterthought, but could do nothing about it except smile forcibly. “Thank you, sir.”

Clark nodded. _“You're a good man, Sheridan. I'll keep you informed for what goes on. Earth dome out.”_

As soon as the screen went blank, he let his mask fall away and scowled. He wasn't expecting those orders, didn't particularly like them either, but more than that he wasn't looking forward to having to deal with Sinclair. And then, as though the thought of him summoned him, Sheridan turned to see him stood in the doorway.

“You heard?”

Sinclair nodded. “Most of it. And he isn't going.”

Sheridan sighed. “We don't have a choice.”

“No,” Sinclair said.

“You can keep saying that, _Captain_ , but it's not your decision to make,” Sheridan replied snappily, his patience was wearing thin.

“Jack isn't leaving this station.”

“Sinclair, you don't refuse a direct order from the President,” Sheridan said, as though he were talking to a child.

Sinclair glared at him. “He's not the President,” he snapped before storming out.

As Sheridan watched him go, his expression neutral, he began to understand exactly why he had been sent to Babylon 5.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Delenn took several deep breaths as she waited outside in the corridor while Lennier announced her presence to the council. Although he had briefed her on what had happened while she was in the cocoon, she found herself unprepared for what was to follow, not just the initial meeting but the undoubtedly many conversations which would likely occur. When Lennier had told her that Sinclair had been reassigned, Delenn had initially, shamefully, felt relieved, especially since others were now aware of his capture and...treatment at their hands. She knew he knew she was part of the Grey Council, and she wasn't sure she could face him every single day now he was aware of the truth. Well, most of it. She knew, of course, that if she had told him herself, the outcome would have been the same, but the only difference there was that she would have been in control and could have told him her way.

Then, as well, there was the addition of a new Captain. Delenn was well aware of Sheridan's reputation and while he was certainly a controversial choice for such a prominent position, she understood the politics behind it all too well. And yet something told her to give him a chance to prove he was different. When he had destroyed their ship in the war, many found his tactics cowardly, but Delenn saw beyond that; she saw the desperation in the humans, the need for any kind of victory, and the cunning it must have taken to think up of a plan like that. It was simple yet effective, and she had to admire Sheridan for that if nothing else. But how the dynamics between him and Sinclair would play out, she did not know.

Lennier emerged from the council chambers just then and inclined his head to her. She had heard what had been said inside, of course, but it was polite to wait until she was summoned. Now she walked into the room with more confidence than she felt, aware of a great deal of tension between everyone, but especially the two humans present.

At that moment, however, at least one of the humans was completely oblivious to the atmosphere; Sheridan only had eyes for Delenn. His expression was genuine, his grin one of excitement and interest, though he was aware of Lennier's continuing silent disapproval of him. The young Minbari's attitude may have seemed the same when he addressed Sheridan and Sinclair, but the younger Captain was aware of subtle differences. He was respected because it was polite; Sinclair was revered and respected because of who he was. It was just something Sheridan would have to get used to.

Sinclair was finding it difficult to separate his emotions. On the one hand, he was happy to be seeing his friend again, but on the other hand, she had been present while he was tortured and then had his memory of the incident erased. She had lied to him all these years; was it possible to trust her again? And he didn't like Sheridan's obvious interest in her; though she had yet to reveal her face to them, he was like a schoolboy, and Sinclair felt she deserved more respect than she was receiving.

Then Delenn pushed her hood back and everyone in the room stopped thinking. Apart from Kosh. He was more interested in the reactions of everyone present than Delenn's physical appearance. They were all shocked, to a greater or lesser degree, but Londo was the only one who seemed repulsed by her change. G'Kar was uncertain as to how he felt, but his expression was closer to Sheridan's than Londo; he actually found her almost attractive. Sheridan was shocked only by his own reaction to Delenn; she was more than attractive, she was beautiful, and he noticed her eyes hardly left his. He hadn't felt that way about anyone since Anna, and he was surprised that it was a Minbari who evoked such feelings in him. And strangle enough, it seemed as if those feelings were mutual.

Delenn didn't care for or about Londo's reaction; she rarely spent time with him, avoided it when possible, and so it didn't bother her one way or the other. G'Kar's reaction she found gratifying, for despite their differences she felt that the Narn were an important part of the future, and despite his aggression, G'Kar was quite the philosopher when he wanted to be. But it was Sheridan who surprised and pleased her the most, not just his expression which was genuine, but how she felt upon seeing his face.

To Sinclair, Delenn looked the same as she always had, and always would. There was a feeling of recognition he felt whenever he saw her, and something else deep in his soul that he couldn't explain. He felt a strong sense of jealousy, as well as protectiveness, when he saw how Sheridan was admiring her, and he was surprised to see the reciprocation in Delenn's features. Then she looked at him and a wealth of understanding passed between them silently; she apologised and asked for his forgiveness, he asked for a little more time to come to terms with what he had learned. But the most important thing they found was that they still respected, and care for, each other.

Without warning, Sinclair smiled. He wondered what Garibaldi and Ivanova would make of this development.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Talia, I would if you could give us a minute,” Garibaldi asked with a weak smile.

She smiled back in understanding. “Of course. Hope you feel better soon.”

Ivanova watched her go, then started after her. “Ms Winters!”

“Yes?” Talia said, surprised.

“I just wanted to thank you for your help in this matter. We all appreciate it.”

The telepath smiled again. “My pleasure, Lieutenant Commander.”

“What was that about?” Garibaldi asked Sinclair quietly.

“Making an effort,” he replied just as quietly.

Franklin looked unsure of himself. “If you want, I can....”

Garibaldi shook his head. “I just didn't want her hearing this. I know she helped us, but she's still Psi Corps....”

Sinclair frowned. “What is it, Michael?”

“Do you remember that Psi Cop, Bester?”

“How could I forget?”

“Remember last time we saw him, he gave us this weird little salute.”

Sinclair cast his mind back and nodded slowly. “Yes, I do.”

“Well Jack gave me the same one when I spoke to him earlier,” Garibaldi said.

Ivanova's eyes widened. “Do you think there's a link between the Psi Corps and Santiago's death?”

Garibaldi spread his hands. “Jack said it wasn't Homeguard, so what if it was Psi Corps? What if they wanted someone in office sympathetic to them? I mean, right before the explosion, Clark gets off? Damned convenient if you ask me.”

“Michael, these are serious accusations,” Sinclair said gravely.

“I know, and I'm not about to go announcing it to the whole station, especially not with Sheridan around.” The security chief looked pointedly at Ivanova.

She held her hands up. “I won't say a word, I promise.” She looked at Sinclair.

“The idea could have merit, though,” Franklin said softly.

Sinclair nodded in agreement. “Let's keep this between us. If you're right, Michael, we could be in for a rough road.”

Everyone nodded. “So, what else did I miss?” Garibaldi asked.

“Delenn is out of her cocoon, and part human now,” Sinclair replied.

Only Franklin didn't seem surprised at the news, but Sinclair had already guessed his involvement. “Did she undergo the change with the blessings of her government?” Ivanova asked.

“She said so. And the ship that G'Kar sent to investigate that distant world? It was destroyed the moment it left hyperspace.”

Everyone stared at the Captain. “Sabotage?” Garibaldi asked.

“Trust you to think of that first,” Franklin teased him.

“We don't know,” Sinclair admitted. “But if G'Kar is worried, so am I.”

“There isn't much we can do, though,” Ivanova said, then rubbed Garibaldi's arm. “I have to get back to C&C. I'll check in on you later.”

Sinclair hesitated before falling in step with her. “I'll walk with you.”

“Alright, what's the deal with those two?” Garibaldi asked as soon as they were out of med lab.

Franklin just looked at him. “You're asking the wrong person there, Michael.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Susan, we can't keep going on like this,” Sinclair said as soon as the doors to the transport tube closed. “I have to be able to trust you....”

“Likewise,” Ivanova replied instantly. “I understand your feelings about Sheridan, but how long is this personal vendetta going to carry on?”

“He has a different way of command,” he told her. “It's just going to take both of us a little time to adjust.”

“And the incident with Jack?”

“That was personal. He almost killed Michael.”

“And you were going to kill him.”

The transport tube stopped and they walked the rest of the way to C&C in silence. “What do you want me to say, Susan?” Sinclair asked quietly, his voice tinged with desperation. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want things back the way they were before, the way _you_ were before,” Ivanova told him, so close he could smell the shampoo she had used that day. “You're back and it's great, but it's different, so much so that sometimes...sometimes I think it would have been better if you hadn't come back at all.”

Her words struck him like arrows and he flinched. Had he really been so different? Perhaps. But she couldn't know all the reasons, couldn't know the full truth. Perhaps if she did, she would understand better. But he had sworn not to tell anyone, not yet at least. Which meant he had to endure this pain for a while longer.

“Susan, I....”

She pulled back suddenly and straightened her uniform. “I'm going to check on the ship carrying the prisoner. Call it a hunch. Don't you have paperwork to do? I'll let you know if anything happens.”

He stared at her for a moment, then just nodded and left. There was indeed a pile of paperwork to be done but all he accomplished was staring at the surface of his desk, his mind churning. He wanted to fix things with Ivanova, but didn't know how. He wanted to fix things with Sheridan, but wasn't ready to. And he wanted to see Delenn, but knew it was too soon.

Sinclair wasn't sure how long he sat there before the comm channel chirped into life, and he slowly turned in his chair to answer it. “Yes?”

Ivanova's face appeared, her mouth set in a grim line, and he knew what she was going to say before she said it. _“Captain, about the ship carrying the prisoner....”_

“Yes?”

There was a long silence. _“He was transferred to another ship a half hour ago. It had all the right codes and paperwork....”_

“But?” Sinclair asked.

Ivanova sighed. _“But I just backtracked to Earth Central and it doesn't match anything they have registered to Earthforce.”_

“So he's gone and all evidence with him.”

_“Yes, sir,”_ Ivanova replied, waiting for the backlash. It didn't come.

“Inform Captain Sheridan and Earth dome, see if they can give us any answers,” Sinclair said wearily, though he doubted it.

_“Will do.”_

“That's all, Lieutenant Commander.”

Ivanova nodded once. _“Yes, Captain.”_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan had heard of Sinclair's love of spending time on the observation deck when it was empty, but hadn't understood completely why until that moment. When Ivanova had told him what had happened to Jack, his first thought was how impossible Sinclair was going to be; his second thought was how to explain it to the President. Who wasn't taking any calls and didn't seem in a rush to contact the Captain, which Sheridan found odd to say the least. As he walked around the command deck, he allowed his fingers to trail on the railing. It was his. All of it. The whole station was his to command, with Sinclair, of course. But still....

“I hear Jack has disappeared.”

Sheridan closed his eyes. He knew this would happen, but he still wished it wouldn't, wished he had more time to prepare himself. He hadn't even realised the other Captain was present, so lost he had been in his own thoughts. “Yes, he has,” he replied quietly.

“Somehow 'I told you so' doesn't quite cover it,” Sinclair said, pushing himself to his feet. In his quiet moments, when he reflected on the events of days gone by, he wondered what kind of person he was turning into, but there was something about Sheridan that just brought out the worst in him. Right now he wanted to feel smug about what had happened, but was just too damned tired. 

“Look, I was ordered to send him back to Earth. What was I supposed to do?” Sheridan asked wearily as he turned to face the other Captain.

“Say 'no', Sheridan.”

“The President ordered me....”

“That doesn't mean he's right,” Sinclair said, cutting him off. “And don't you find it strange that Clark hasn't contacted you to find out what happened?”

Sheridan clamped his jaw shut. He had in fact been waiting for that call, though he was as certain as Sinclair that it would never come. “No,” he lied.

The older man just looked at him, sensing for the first time that perhaps things weren't exactly as they seemed. “It gets cold up here sometimes, doesn't it?” he said in a neutral tone.

Sheridan stared at him for a second longer than necessary, also sensing some sort of shift. “Yes. Yes, it does.”

TBC


	28. 203 The Geometry of Shadows

_January 2259_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Well, judging from the lack of information you're giving me, I'd say you were almost ready to go back to work,” Franklin said with a smile.

Garibaldi made a non-committal sound as he pulled his shirt back on. He knew he should have been thrilled at the prospect of getting back to his job, to putting on the uniform and doing something he loved. But he wasn't. He wasn't even happy about being back on his feet, really. There had been too much change for him in too short a space of time, and he was worried about Sinclair. He could tell his old friend had far more on his mind than he was letting on to anyone, and it wasn't just about Sheridan.

“Yeah, well I have to go and see Captain Sheridan first, see if he even wants me around.”

Franklin frowned. “Why wouldn't he? And surely Captain Sinclair has a say on this as well.”

“Oh, he does. And he has,” Garibaldi replied, recalling the conversation from a few days prior.

_Garibaldi wasn't surprised when the doors to his quarters opened and Sinclair stepped through. The Captain wore a tired expression which seemed to be normal for him lately, and the security chief knew he was part of the reason for so much stress._

_“Chief. How you feeling?” Sinclair asked with a smile._

_“Better and better.”_

_“Has Doctor Franklin cleared you for duty yet?”_

_Garibaldi shook his head. “Don't think it'll be too long, though.”_

_Sinclair nodded, then sat down, his elbows on his knees. “We need to talk about that.”_

_“Uhoh.”_

_“If it was just me, Michael, I'd have you back yesterday, you know that,” Sinclair said seriously. “But things are different now. Whether any of us like it or not, this station is now subject to a joint command, which means you have to get Sheridan's approval as well as mine.”_

_“You don't think he'll give it,” Garibaldi stated flatly._

_“I didn't say that, and I didn't infer it either. I'm just saying that as far as I'm concerned, your job is yours the minute you're given the all clear from Stephen. But you need to check in with Sheridan too.”_

_“He helped save my life.”_

_“Yes, he did.”_

_“But you don't think that means anything.”_

_“I don't know, Mike. It could say a lot about his character, but we've been wrong about people before.” Sinclair sighed. “I just hope I'm wrong about Sheridan.”_

_Garibaldi studied his friend. “You want him to be the bad guy?”_

_“No, I don't,” Sinclair replied honestly._

Garibaldi shrugged himself back to the present. “Besides, I'm not sure about Sheridan. I can't help but thinking how everyone and his brother wanted Sinclair out of here and now, this sudden change of command....”

“But Sinclair is still here,” Franklin pointed out.

“I know, and don't tell me you don't find that weird too. Don't get me wrong, it's great he's still around, but let's be honest, what the hell is Earth Central playing at?” Garibaldi shook his head. “It's weird. Anyway, Sinclair I can trust, but Sheridan....”

“You didn't exactly sound excited when I said about going back to work,” Franklin said. “Michael, if you want to talk....”

“Jack was right under my nose, and I didn't see it. What kind of security chief does that make me?” Garibaldi snapped. “I was shot in the back by my own guy. Things like that change you and now...now I don't know if I'm ready to get back to it or even if I want to. Nothing's the same any more.” Without waiting for a reply, he tapped the bed once and walked out of med lab.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova straightened her uniform and pressed the chime. Her stomach performed a somersault when she heard the voice answering and she wondered what he wanted. “Good morning,” Sinclair greeted her with a smile. “Coffee?”

“Sure,” she replied, perching on a stool.

“Susan, I wanted to apologise....”

She waved him silent. “I was out of line as well.”

“No, you were right.” Sinclair looked at her, his gaze intense. “I'm going to make a better effort with Sheridan.”

Ivanova smiled at him. “Good. Now, what did you want to see me about? I'm guessing it wasn't just to tell me that.”

“Maybe I just like your company?” he replied with a grin. She rolled her eyes. “I have some news for you.”

“Good news? Bad news?”

“Good news, I hope. With having two Captains on board the station, we really need a second-in-command with a higher rank than Lieutenant Commander,” Sinclair explained, then stopped. “What?”

Ivanova's face had paled. “You call this good news? That you're bringing someone else in over my head when....”

Sinclair reached for her hands. “Susan...I've promoted you to Commander. I put the request through when I was on Earth, but the paperwork took longer than expected....”

“Promotion?” she asked, cutting him off.

“I think you more than earned it, especially handling the station while I wasn't here,” Sinclair said, smiling.

“Promotion,” Ivanova asked, a slow grin spreading across her face.

“Yeah.”

She couldn't contain herself. With an exclamation of excitement, she threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you!”

“You're welcome,” he replied, grinning with her. “But like I said, you earned it. I'd have made the recommendation even if I hadn't come back, but then it would have been Sheridan's call.”

Ivanova pulled back. “Does he know?”

Sinclair shrugged. “I only found out myself this morning and it wasn't something we had gotten around to discussing.”

Before she could reply, her link beeped. “Ivanova.”

_“Meet me in the briefing room, we have a situation,”_ Sheridan told her.

“On my way.” Ivanova looked at Sinclair. “You coming?”

Sinclair shook his head. “If Sheridan wants me, he'll let me know. I'll see you later...Commander.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

As soon as she stepped into the office, Sheridan knew she knew, but decided to play along anyway. “Good morning, Ivanova.”

“Good morning, Captain.”

“You're in a cheerful mood today.”

“Cheerful? Me?” But she couldn't help the grin that spread across her face. “Well, maybe I am a little, but don't tell anyone.”

Sheridan laughed. “I actually called you hear for two reasons, but I'm guessing you've already been told one of them.”

Ivanova frowned. “Sir?”

“Your promotion,” he clarified, and smiled as her grin returned. “I put the paperwork through the day after I go here, but it seems Captain Sinclair beat me to it.” He leant over and shook her hand. “Congratulations, Commander, you earned it. I know it's annoying and inconvenient....”

“I'm sure I'll manage,” she replied.

He grinned back. “I'm sure you will. Now, added responsibility comes with any promotion. I think it's time you started learning the fine art of diplomacy.”

Ivanova stared at him. “Me? Diplomacy? Seriously?”

Sheridan laughed. “Seriously.”

“Now that you mention it, Captain Sinclair has been trying to teach me for some time now.”

“And I'm sure you've learned a lot from him, but I have a problem which has just come to my attention and I think you'd be perfect for solving it,” Sheridan said, still grinning and directing her attention to the view screen.

“I've heard about this,” Ivanova told him after they watched the footage of the Drazi fighting. “It happens once every five years, I think, lasts for a while and then everything goes back to normal.”

“Be that as it may, it's a disruption we can't afford on the station, so if you could find me a peaceful solution to this Drazi problem, that would be a good start,” he said.

Ivanova was speechless for a moment. “I'll do my best, sir.”

Sheridan smiled. “Good. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go see someone.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair was walking through the main corridor when he saw Sheridan heading towards him, so he stopped and waited. “Captain.”

“Captain.”

“Problem?”

“Not exactly,” Sheridan replied. “Well, it's the Drazi leadership contest, or whatever the hell you want to call it.”

Sinclair nodded. “A lot of fighting. I know. How are we handling it?”

Sheridan smiled. “Actually, I've put Ivanova on the job. Added responsibility coming with a promotion, fine art of diplomacy and all that.”

Sinclair smiled back. “I'm sure she'll be fine. About her promotion....”

The other Captain held his hand up. “It's fine. At least it's something we can both agree on.”

“She's a fine officer.”

“I know.”

“Have you given any more thought to Mr Garibaldi?” Sinclair asked.

“I was expecting him to come and see me, but so far.” Sheridan shrugged. “So I figured I'd go to him.”

“Will you give him his job back?”

“Frankly, Sinclair, I'm not sure. His background is...colourful, to say the least, but he also knows this station better than anyone.”

“Give him a chance, Sheridan. He's rough around the edges but he won't disappoint you.”

Sheridan looked at him. “No, me he doesn't care about. He won't disappoint _you_ and that's what I'm counting on. I'll let you know how it goes.”

Sinclair watched him go, still conflicted over his presence on the station, but he had other things on his mind and people to see. One in particular.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

His instincts told him there was something not quite right with Sheridan, but after being shot by his second, Garibaldi wasn't sure he could trust his instincts any more. Maybe Sheridan's problem was just that he was the new guy and was trying too hard to fit in; he knew some people could be like that. Sinclair never had been, neither had Ivanova, and Garibaldi hadn't really fallen prey to that tendency either, but some people did. Maybe Sheridan was one of them.

Garibaldi certainly got that impression as the Captain stood talking to him in his quarters. He was likeable enough but there was still...something. “So, what do you say?”

The security chief looked at him and decided to see how complete honesty would go over. That would tell him more about Sheridan than anything else at the moment. “I don't know if I'm ready to come back, or if you want me to come back.”

“Well, Sinclair trusts you.”

“But he's not the only one in charge any more.”

Sheridan nodded, wondering how long it would be before he had to deal with a serious case of divided loyalties. “True, but in this case, I'll trust his judgement. Everything I have heard since I arrived on this station suggests you are a valuable resource that I would be foolish to throw away. Sinclair and I both need someone running security who we can trust. He wants it to be you, and I'd like that as well, because until we can learn to trust each other, I know you won't let him down.” He handed Garibaldi his PPG. “Just don't take too long to decide, okay?” He smiled and left.

“Maybe he's not so bad after all,” the security chief murmured.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Hello, Captain.”

Sinclair bowed. “Delenn.”

“I was wondering when I would be seeing you.”

“I wanted to give you time to adjust.”

Delenn regarded him carefully. “And have you adjusted, Captain?”

He smiled a little. “It's taking longer than I thought,” he admitted. “Delenn, before I left the station and before you went into the cocoon, you said we needed to talk, that you would give me what answers you could. But now we know I was taken on board a Minbari cruiser, interrogated and tortured, and then released because I have part of a Minbari soul. Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

“I was there.”

“I know.”

Delenn stood and moved away. “I cannot ask your forgiveness....”

“It was war,” Sinclair replied softly. “We would have done the same.”

“Perhaps that is true, but it is lying to you the years we have been friends that I cannot ask forgiveness for,” she said. “I wanted to tell you, Captain, but the risks were too high. For both of us.”

“Then why now?”

“It was time.”

Sinclair smiled wryly. “You know, I don't think you did me any favours. President Clark also knows why you surrendered at the Battle of the Line.”

Delenn turned to look at him. “You do not trust him?”

“There is a lot happening, Delenn, things are changing. That's all I can say right now.”

“I understand, Captain.”

“Please, call me Jeff,” Sinclair said, his smile turning warmer. “Yes, you lied to me, but the person I have grown to know and admire is strong and kind-hearted, and that means more to me than what has happened in the past.”

Delenn smiled back at him and inclined her head. “Thank you, Captain...Jeff.” His name sounded strange on her tongue, but not in a bad way. “It would be considered disrespectful for me to call you by your given name.”

“In public, yes, but in private, no. It's what friends do.”

“Then I am glad we are still friends, Jeff,” Delenn replied. “Was there anything else?”

“Actually, there was.” Sinclair explained his side trip to Minbar and the instructions he had brought back with him, as well as the sealed casket. “Do you have any idea what could be inside?”

She frowned and shook her head. “No. I wasn't even aware of its existence.”

“But you're one of the Grey Council,” he pointed out.

Delenn just looked at him. “Precisely. And if I have no knowledge of it, I cannot help you.”

“And the other task?”

“I was aware such a group existed, of course. They were formed in the time of Valen. But why you should be chosen to train them, I do not know.”

“Not just me, Delenn. Us,” Sinclair said with a smile.

“Yes. A most curious thing. But if it is the will of the Council, and of prophecy, who are we to argue?” Delenn replied.

“Who indeed?” he murmured.

“You seem sad.”

“I just wish my life was my own. Sometimes.”

“I understand. But answer me this, Jeff, who else would you trust with the tasks which have been given to you?” Delenn asked.

Sinclair sighed. “You don't fight fair.”

She grinned at him. “True.”

“Well, I should be going. The Drazi are fighting to establish a new leading group and things could turn ugly.”

“Ah yes. A most unusual system, but I suppose if it works for them....” Delenn trailed off and shrugged, though it was obvious she didn't think very much of Drazi politics.

Sinclair nodded in agreement, but paused just before the door opened. “Delenn, I wonder...would it be considered impolite or disrespectful for me to pay you a compliment?”

“Not at all. We are, after all, friends.”

“In that case...you look beautiful.” With that, he bowed and left, missing the expression on the Minbari's face.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“So, I spoke with Mr Garibaldi.”

“And?”

“He's thinking about it.”

“That's it?”

“Sinclair, I can't force him to take his job back. I've made it clear I want him as head of security, as do you, but the rest is up to him.”

“Maybe I'll talk to him again.”

“Maybe you should just leave him to work through this on his own.”

“Sheridan....” Beep. “Yes?”

_“Captain Sinclair, Dr Franklin. I think you should come down to med lab.”_

“What's happened?”

_“Commander Ivanova took a tumble while trying to deal with the Drazi.”_

“Serious?”

_“Serious enough.”_

“We'll be right there.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“I'm fine,” Ivanova said as soon as the two Captains walked into med lab, idly wondering if they knew what an impressive sight they made together.

“She's broken her foot in three places,” Franklin supplied as he worked on her ankle. “I can speed up the process so it'll take three weeks to heal instead of nine, but she'll have to wear a cast.”

“I'm still here, you know,” Ivanova reminded him.

Franklin looked up. “I can give you something for the pain....”

“Great, _now_ you can give me something for the pain. Where were you when I was going through puberty?”

Franklin laughed and shook his head, Sheridan pretended not to be listening, and Sinclair looked too concerned to appreciate the joke. “She'll be fine,” the doctor assured them before walking off.

“Not an auspicious start to your diplomatic career,” Sheridan joked.

Ivanova shrugged. “It could have been worse. I could have had to sit with Ambassadors G'Kar and Londo in negotiations for the rest of my natural life.”

That did warrant a laugh from Sinclair. “So, what will your next move be?” he asked.

“Other than putting all the Drazi in a ship and firing it into the sun?” Ivanova replied far too innocently.

Sheridan laughed. “Yes, apart from that.”

But Sinclair was frowning now. “Maybe you should give it a few days, get some rest and heal up....”

“No. I started it so by God I'll finish it,” Ivanova said firmly.

Sheridan smiled briefly, but inside he felt a swell of pride for their second-in-command, because his father had taught him the same way. Sinclair too was proud, but also worried that Ivanova was pushing herself too hard to impress Sheridan.

“That's what I like to hear,” Sheridan said. “Keep us informed and take care of that foot.” He turned. “Captain.”

“Is that it?” Ivanova couldn't help but ask.

“I have complete trust in your abilities,” he called back.

Ivanova laughed and shook her head. “Hell of a thing to tell someone.” Then she caught Sinclair's expression. “What? Don't you have faith in my abilities?”

“Of course I do. I wouldn't have promoted you otherwise. But this...this is serious,” he said, gesturing to her foot.

“It was an accident.”

“It could have been worse.”

“And it could have been better.” Ivanova sighed. “Captain, you can't protect me all the time.”

Sinclair sighed too. “I know that. But it won't stop me from trying. You're important to me, to this station. If anything happened to you....”

Ivanova cut him off, but gently. “Right now I'm more worried about this Drazi problem.” She shuffled around on the bed, clearly looking for a way to get up.

“Let me help you,” Sinclair said, supporting her. He pulled her jacket on for her as well and fastened it. “Where do you want to meet with the Drazi?”

“Captain, I can manage. I'm sure you have other things to do.”

He smiled. “Not really.”

Ivanova wasn't buying it. “I can manage,” she repeated. “Besides, Captain Sheridan gave this task to me and I'll find a solution to it somehow...without help.”

Sinclair finally took the hint and took a step away. “Just be careful, Commander, and call me if you need anything.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan sat at the desk staring idly out of the window, twisting a pen around in his fingers. It was worrying how easily Londo thought he could manipulate him, yet he had brought the presence of the techno-mages to his attention. “Captain Sinclair, I hope I didn't drag you away from anything important.”

Sinclair tried not to take his comment as a barb but it was difficult. “Not really, Captain Sheridan. Problem?”

“Did you know there are a group of techno-mages on board this station?” he asked, his tone almost hostile.

Sinclair just frowned. “No, I hadn't heard.” Then his expression changed. “Techno-mages here. I never thought it would be something I would see in my lifetime.”

“So you didn't know anything about it?”

“I'm sure I just said. Do you think I would keep information from you?”

Sheridan opened his mouth to reply, then waved the question aside. “I'm just wondering why the first we hear about it is from the Centauri ambassador, and why he would choose to talk to me and not you.”

“The only person who knows why Londo does anything is Londo, and sometimes I think even he isn't sure,” Sinclair replied. “What are you thinking, Captain?”

“Divide and conquer, Captain. The oldest rule of warfare in the book. What if some of the alien governments here saw our joint rule as an opportunity to move in? They know you pretty well, but I'm an unknown quantity. And it's pretty obvious to everyone that you and I don't exactly see eye to eye.”

“What are you suggesting, Sheridan?” Sinclair asked, cold spreading over him.

“I'm just pointing out something that seems pretty damned obvious to me,” Sheridan replied. “The way Ambassador Mollari spoke to me....” He shook his head. “I'm sure he thinks I'm wet behind the ears.”

“Londo likes to think he's better than everyone,” Sinclair said. “And we've had our fair share of disagreements. I've probably had about as many with him as with Ambassador G'Kar; we don't see eye to eye on a lot of things.”

Sheridan looked at him. “So you think I'm worrying about nothing?”

“I don't even know you're worrying at all.” Sinclair's eyes shifted focus. “What are we going to do about those empty frames?”

The younger Captain swivelled in his chair to peer at the wall behind him. “I don't know. Never really noticed them before.” He turned back. “What about that...thing over there?”

It was Sinclair's turn to move and as always, a strange feeling came over him when he stared at the odd wall decoration. “It stays.”

“Really.”

“Sheridan, you can do what you want with those empty frames, okay? That can be...your wall. But that's mine, and it stays.”

Just then, Ivanova's face appeared on the viewscreen. _“Captains, we have a serious problem.”_

“Are you hurt?” Sinclair asked.

“What is it?” Sheridan said simultaneously.

Ivanova pointedly ignored Sinclair. _“I was on my way to the council chambers to meet with the Drazi when I received a message from their homeworld. It seems the greens have upped the stakes; they've started killing purples.”_

“What?!” Sheridan exclaimed.

Sinclair was already in front of the viewer. “What about the Drazi here?”

Ivanova clenched her jaw and shook her head. _“All the purple Drazi in the council chambers are dead. I've ordered security to try and keep the Drazi separate where possible, but....”_

“Understood,” Sheridan said and turned to Sinclair. “What do you want to do?”

“Right now I like Ivanova's idea of putting them all on a ship and firing it into the sun,” he replied dryly.

“It has merit.”

Sinclair nodded. “But...let's leave her to deal with it. It's what she wants. We have other issues on our hands.”

_“You do know I can still hear you, don't you?”_ Ivanova reminded them.

Sheridan closed the comm channel. “I can deal with the techno-mages. Do you want to...?” He gestured out of the office.

“I suppose if she decides to tear my head off, I can always say it was your idea,” Sinclair replied, walking out of the office.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Some time later and Sinclair was sat in the zen garden, attempting and failing to bring some peace to his thoughts. It felt as though his day had gone from bad to worse; he had argued with Ivanova because she felt he was smothering her, he had argued with Sheridan over the techno-mages, and Garibaldi still hadn't committed to returning to work. His indecision was starting to worry Sinclair, but he didn't want to press him. He could understand what Garibaldi was going through, but he also knew the only person who could help him make a decision regarding his future was himself...and perhaps Lise, but it seemed that ship had well and truly sailed, yet Sinclair still felt for his old friend.

His thoughts turned to Catherine and he sighed. She would be well underway on her research and exploration trip by now, and he hoped she was enjoying herself. He had hoped they would talk again before she left, that they would get some closure, but it seemed like she wanted things to hang over his head; not big enough to cause him problems, but not small enough for him to forget. In a way, it was just like her; she always had to have the last word in everything.

Sinclair shook his head and tried to clear his thoughts of Catherine, only to have Ivanova replace her. Things between them had been so tumultuous since his return, and he couldn't help but wonder if part of the problem was Sheridan. Not that he particularly wanted to blame the other Captain any more, but it seemed logical. He was certain Ivanova would have acted differently had he not been around. But most of the problem lay between them; before he had left, Sinclair thought they had agreed on a quiet relationship that didn't break any rules, but it seemed Ivanova had changed her mind. Or she couldn't make up her mind. One moment she was close to him, the next she was pushing him away. He thought he knew what the problem was, but hadn't had the time to talk to her about it yet. And as she was injured, his protective streak had shone through brighter than usual, but she didn't like it. When he had gone to the council chambers to see if she needed help, Ivanova had snapped at him and they had argued. It hadn't been pretty and Sinclair didn't want to remember the details, but the last thing she had said to him stuck in his mind.

_“Just leave me alone! Stop following me around and monitoring everything I do! I'm not some possession to be owned!”_

Her words had stung him almost as much as the force with which she had said them. But he would do as she asked; he would leave her alone for as long as she wanted, knowing full well that if she ever wanted to tell him what the problem was and pick things up again, he would be there waiting for her.

Sheridan, however, was an entirely different matter. Sinclair would never have taken him for a stickler for the rules, but he was turning out to be just that. Earth Central had been in contact; they wanted to know exactly what the techno-mages were doing and where they were going, even giving Sheridan and Sinclair permission to detain them if they didn't give them answers. To Sinclair it was unthinkable. They were a free people, not governed by anyone, and so could pass through Babylon 5 as and when they pleased, without having to worry about being hindered or policed. Sheridan, however, wanted to follow orders. Sinclair was beginning to think he had a death wish, and had all but told him so. And, of course, they had argued. He doubted they would ever be able to get along.

“I wonder if I could disturb you for a moment.”

Sinclair closed his eyes against the voice. “Would you take any notice if I said no?”

“No.” Sheridan sat down next to him and the older Captain caught a scent of orange blossom. “I wanted to apologise. You were right about the techno-mages; sometimes following orders isn't the right thing to do.”

Sinclair turned to look at him. “What changed your mind?”

Sheridan explained about Londo's double cross and his long talk with Elric. “I guess sometimes I forget I'm not on a ship any more. This place has its own rules which seem to govern it just fine.” He pushed himself to his feet. “Anyway, that was all I wanted to say.” He paused in the garden entrance. “Have you heard from Ivanova lately?”

He shook his head. “I'm sure she's fine.”

Sheridan took the hint and left, but his peace and quiet was soon interrupted again. “Jeff! There you are, I've been looking all over for you.”

“What is it, Chief?” The name rolled off his tongue without him thinking about it, but he was glad it didn't bother Garibaldi. In fact, it gave him hope.

“I just ran into Lou, he was in a hurry, saying they had to clear out Brown 26 on Ivanova's orders for some big Drazi meeting. Given what's going on, I figured that was a good thing.”

“But?” Sinclair asked, able to read his friend like a book.

“But Lou didn't actually talk to Ivanova, just got a message from her link,” Garibaldi explained. “He said they checked it and it definitely came from her, but it stinks to me.”

“Where is she?”

“Message came from Brown 2.” He stared at his friend. “I think we need to check it out.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova was furious over many things at that moment and to pass the time, she tried to organise them by importance. It wasn't easy. First of all, she was annoyed at herself for being captured. That definitely ranked number one on her list, but from there radiated other things. If she hadn't have been injured, they wouldn't have taken her so easily or at all. She was furious that the Drazi blatantly ignored her rank and position on the station. She was furious at Sheridan for giving her this assignment in the first place. And she was annoyed at Sinclair for leaving her, because if he hadn't, she _definitely_ wouldn't have been taken.

But Ivanova knew that wasn't fair. She had sent Sinclair away, possibly permanently, and because of that she was captured without any means of escaping, while out in the station, the green Drazi were gathering all the purple Drazi in one place under her name...so they could murder them all.

“You're making a big mistake,” she told the Drazi who were guarding her. Whether they thought she meant about killing other Drazi or holding her hostage, she wasn't sure as they ignored her completely.

Just then there was a loud pounding on the door and one of the Drazi went to see what was going on. Ivanova couldn't hear clearly at first, but it was probably for the best; if she had, she probably wouldn't have been able to keep her face straight.

“Good afternoon, sir, we'd like to speak to the lady of the house,” Sinclair said with a disarming smile.

“Assuming, of course, you're not the lady of the house,” Garibaldi added, and the two of them laughed at their own joke.

“Anyway, we're here to sell you something that will make your life easier....”

“...Cleaner....”

“...And all round happier,” they said in unison.

“Yes, sir,” Sinclair continued. “The Acme micro....”

“...Handy dandy helper right here in this box,” Garibaldi finished, tapping a black box. “If you'll just allow us to demonstrate....”

“...This will only take a few moments.”

But the Drazi moved to try and block their path, dimly aware that his actions were somewhat futile as there were two of them and only one of him.

“Well, it seems we have a tough customer here, Jeff.”

“Indeed it does, Mike. But we've had tougher.”

Garibaldi nodded. “Indeed we have. Really, we won't take up much of your time....”

The Drazi moved again, his whole body language conveying his desperation.

“We're just trying to make your life easier,” Sinclair said in a friendly voice. “That's our job. We're here to help.” He glanced at Garibaldi.

“That's right. In fact, if there's anyone in here who needs a little help, just yell,” the security chief announced in a louder-than-necessary voice.

“In here!” Ivanova shouted, viciously elbowing the Drazi by her side.

Garibaldi hit one Drazi with the black box while Sinclair punched another. It was a short, unsatisfying fight, but both friends grinned at each other when it was over. The security chief moved further into the room and saw Ivanova with her hands tied.

“You okay?” he asked in a concerned tone.

“I'm fine, but we need to get out of here. The green Drazi have lured all the purple Drazi into one of the cargo bays,” she explained while he cut the ropes. “They're going to kill them all.”

“Yeah, we know,” Garibaldi said, helping her to her feet.

As Ivanova looked up, over the security chief's shoulder she saw Sinclair hanging back in the shadows. He watched her carefully, a controlled amount of concern showing on his face, and when he was satisfied she was okay, he nodded slightly and then walked away.

“So, how do you want to deal with this, Captain?” Garibaldi asked, turning. “Jeff?”

Ivanova sighed, surprised at the pain she fault by his departure. She realised she had been hard on him recently, unused to the seemingly constant presence of him around her. “This is my responsibility, Garibaldi,” she said. “I'll fix it.”

He gave her a piercing look. “Okay, what's going on?”

“I have no idea....”

“Listen, I can leave you here, if you like. I'm sure a hopping Commander will give a lot of folks a good laugh.”

“You don't fight fair.”

“Your point?”

She sighed again. “It's nothing.”

“Doesn't look like nothing to me,” Garibaldi said.

“It's private.”

“No such thing.”

“Dammit, Michael, why do you need to know?” she snapped at him.

“Because Jeff is one of my best friends and I don't like to see him upset,” Garibaldi replied seriously. “And because I care about you as well. Whatever's gone on between the two of you has to be fixable, and if I can help, then I want to know.”

“Plus you're nosey as hell.”

“That too.”

“It's just that since he got back, he's just...there. It's like I don't get a minute to myself.”

“And this is a problem because?”

Ivanova stared at him. “Tell me you're not serious.”

“Look, you and Jeff have served together for a year, which brings people closer,” Garibaldi explained. “We've gone through hell and back a few times during that time, which always brings people closer. Realistically, you don't spend any more time together now than you did before. But for some reason it bothers you more.”

“He's asking too much of me.”

Garibaldi shook his head. “No, he isn't. You forget, I've known Jeff a hell of a long time, and he never asks too much of anyone.” He softened his expression and lowered his voice. “If you push him away because you're scared, it won't stop him from caring about you the way he does. If it's Sheridan you're worried about, I can understand that, but you're the one who keeps saying he can be trusted.”

“This is different, Michael,” Ivanova replied.

“Maybe. Maybe not. But I know you don't really want to hurt Jeff, do you?” the head of security asked.

“No.”

“Then talk to him about all of this.”

Ivanova hesitated, then nodded. “I will,” she promised. “But right now, I have the Drazi to take care of.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“I hear there was a problem with Ivanova.”

Sinclair looked up from the desk and saw Sheridan walking into the room looking less than happy. “It's all fine now.”

“Be that as it may, I want to know why I'm only finding out after it happened.”

“Mr Garibaldi thought he and I could handle it just fine on our own. It required a certain amount of improvisation on the spot, something which I know Michael and I can do.”

Sheridan sat down. “Sinclair, I don't like being the last to know about things.”

“I'm sure Dr Franklin is the last to know, he usually is,” Sinclair replied mildly.

“And you're sat in my chair.”

Sinclair threw his head back and laughed loudly. “Really? Is that what this is about? We have to share this office, Sheridan, like we have to share command. Get used to it.”

“Not sure I can,” Sheridan replied.

“That makes two of us, but we should at least try.” Sinclair shifted his gaze, his expression changing minutely as well. “Commander. How did it go with the Drazi?”

“Problem solved, Captain. Captain,” Ivanova said, looking at Sheridan.

He raised his eyebrows. “Really? How?”

“Diplomacy.”

Sheridan and Sinclair exchanged a disbelieving look. “No, seriously, how?” the younger Captain asked.

Ivanova mock-scowled at him and carefully lowered herself to a chair. “Alright, complete accident. I took one of the green scarves from a Drazi, only to find out it was their leader's cloth and apparently, whoever takes green is green leader, and greens follow green.”

“You sound like a Drazi,” Sinclair said with a faint smile. Although Ivanova appeared to be her usual self, he wasn't sure how he stood with her.

“Anyway, it seems that there's no rule saying aliens can't be green leader, so....”

“You're the new Drazi leader?” Sheridan exclaimed.

“No, I'm new leader of the green Drazi, which means they do exactly as I say.”

Sheridan eyed her suspiciously. “And what did you say to them?”

“I told them that they would all be spending time in the brig,” Ivanova replied “Wearing purple.”

The younger Captain grinned broadly and laughed. “Well done, Ivanova. You solved the problem without starting a war or creating further bloodshed. It's unconventional, sure, but if it works....” He shrugged. “Now if you'll excuse me, I have a few things to do.”

“Captain, Mr Garibaldi has invited us to AirHarts this evening at 1930h, something about making a decision regarding his position here,” Ivanova said.

Sheridan nodded. “I'll be there.”

“Good job,” Sinclair said softly once they were alone.

“Thank you.” Ivanova took a deep breath. “Mr Garibaldi seems to think I need to explain a few things to you. He may have also mentioned locking us in the brig until we solved our...issues.”

“Mr Garibaldi does seem fond of that as a punishment.”

“I think Mr Garibaldi and I have different views on punishment because that definitely wouldn't be....” She trailed off, her cheeks suddenly flaming. Sinclair just looked amused, and a little bit hopeful. “Anyway, the reason I've been like I've been lately is....”

“Because of my treatment of Sheridan, which I'm trying hard to correct,” he replied.

“Well, yes, but it's because....”

“You're scared. Everyone you have ever cared about or loved has left you or been taken away from you. And I can't promise that will never happen with us. I wish I could. I know how hard it is for you to let me in, and if it gets too hard, then just tell me.”

“You knew?” Ivanova exclaimed, still processing the first thing he said.

Sinclair nodded. “We've spoken of this before, remember? And besides, I know you. But next time, just tell me, okay? If you feel like you don't want this....”

Ivanova reached across the desk and grasped his hand. “I _do_ want this. It's funny, while I was in there with the Drazi, I was hoping you would come and rescue me.” She smiled. “I just need to convince myself that it's okay to trust you, to let you in. But I do want this.”

He laced their fingers together and smiled. “Good. Did Garibaldi say what his decision was?”

“He's staying. And the techno-mages?”

“They're going. Unhindered.”

“Everything is as it should be,” Ivanova stated with a slight smile.

Sinclair lifted their joined hands and kissed her knuckles. “I couldn't agree more.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova was just finishing her hair when the chimes to her quarters sounded. Frowning a little, she called, “Come in,” before returning to her task.

Sinclair had the good grace to stare as he walked into the room. He had seen Ivanova in civilian clothing before on numerous occasions, but the effect on him was always the same. “You look beautiful, Susan.”

She turned and gave him a radiant smile. “You don't look so bad yourself.”

“I thought you might like an escort to AirHarts,” he said in a mild voice.

Ivanova hobbled out of her bedroom and stopped right in front of him, laying her hand on his arm. “I would like that very much. Thank you.”

As she started to reach up to kiss his cheek, he read her intent and stooped to make it easier for her. The simple gesture ended up lasting longer than an instant, and suddenly their arms were around each other, Sinclair burying his face into her neck while Ivanova tucked her head into his shoulder.

“Do you think we'll ever get it right?” he murmured.

“I think we're going to make some screw ups along the way, sure,” she replied. “But we seem to be doing okay so far, despite the hurdles.”

Sinclair pulled back and brushed her cheeks with his thumbs. “We do our best.”

“I think it's all we can do.” Ivanova held her arm out to him, bent at the elbow. “Shall we?”

He laughed loudly as he took her arm and they made their way slowly to AirHarts. Franklin was already there and smiled as he saw them. “Captain, Commander. How's the foot?”

“Getting better, and yes, I am taking care of it,” Ivanova replied as Sinclair pulled a chair out for her.

“Good.” Franklin pretended to ignore the glances between the pair or the lingering hand on Ivanova's shoulder as Sinclair moved to sit next to her, opposite the doctor. “I hear there were techno-mages on the station.”

The Captain nodded. “They were gathering to leave for parts unknown beyond the Rim, so their knowledge couldn't be used for evil.”

“I can understand that,” Franklin murmured, then sighed when Ivanova looked at him quizzically. “During the last stages of the war, when things were bad for our side, I was ordered to turn over my research in to xenobiology for...genetic warfare. I refused and destroyed it all.”

Ivanova's expression was shocked, but also consoling; she knew how difficult that must have been for the doctor. Sinclair just bowed his head as though he was already aware of what had happened. “I didn't know, but unfortunately it doesn't surprise me.”

“Oh good, I thought I was late,” Sheridan said, smiling as he approached. Then he caught the atmosphere around the table and sobered. “Did I miss something?”

“We were just talking about the war,” Sinclair replied mildly, indicating the discussion was over.”

“I see.” He sat down, painfully aware of his uniform while the others were in civvies. “So, what Mr Garibaldi's decision is?”

“I'm going to guess he's staying as he hasn't said anything to me,” the other captain said. “But we'll know when he arrives.”

Sheridan frowned and Ivanova explained simply. “Uniform, staying. Civilian clothing, not.”

“Thank you.”

Then Franklin smiled. “And here he is, the man of the hour.”

Everyone turned to see Garibaldi entering AirHarts with Welch, the two laughing and joking about something. A few of the other crew members intercepted Garibaldi to pass on their well wishes, but those sat around the table could only see one thing; Earthforce grey.

“I'm sorry I'm late to my own party, but I couldn't remember if it was fasten or zip first,” Garibaldi said with a grin.

Sinclair laughed loudly while the others looked at each other with incomprehension. “Never mind,” he told them.

“It's really great to see you back in uniform, Chief,” Welch said, handing him cake. The others all cheered and clapped, while the two security officers shook hands.

“So tell the truth, Garibaldi, what made you come back to duty?” Ivanova asked.

Garibaldi studied her for a moment, noting how relaxed she was and how close she sat to Sinclair. He glanced at his old friend, who nodded almost imperceptibly. “I have two unique qualities. One, as Captain Sheridan so kindly pointed out, I know this station and everyone on it _intimately_.”

Sheridan noted how he emphasised the word as he looked at Ivanova, and he half expected Sinclair to explode, or at the very least bristle over the comment. He had seen how protective he was of her, and how close the two seemed to be, and Sheridan didn't think Sinclair would welcome any sort of comment like that against his second-in-command. But to his surprise, the other Captain just threw back his head and laughed with the others while Ivanova protested at the same time.

“Hey, in all the time I've known you, you've never been more than two inches from your link. Knowing that little piece of information helped save your butt,” Garibaldi said.

“Okay, what's the other reason?” Franklin asked, smiling.

The security chief suddenly turned serious and he looked at each person in turn. “I don't trust anyone.”

Sheridan tried not to take it personally, but it was difficult. He was sure Garibaldi trusted Sinclair implicitly, and Ivanova too. There was no reason he knew of for the Chief not to trust Franklin...which just left him. Perhaps he was wrong, but he didn't like the inference.

“When someone tells me we have a message from Ivanova, I don't believe it until I get it from her point blank,” Garibaldi explained.

“So in other words, you're perfect for the job,” Ivanova said.

“Because you're paranoid...,” Sheridan added.

“...And compulsive,” Sinclair finished.

“Or compulsively paranoid,” Franklin suggested.

Garibaldi frowned and looked suspiciously around the table. “Who told you to say that?”

They all laughed and lifted their glasses in a toast when Sheridan's link went off. “Never fails,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Yes?”

_“Captain, you wanted to be informed when the techno-mages were leaving.”_

“Yes, thank you, I'll be right there.” He stood and smiled at the Chief. “Mr Garibaldi....”

“Michael.”

Sinclair tried not to show his surprise, unaware his expression was mirroring Sheridan's. “Michael,” the younger Captain repeated. “I'm glad you decided to stay on. I'm looking forward to working with you.” He clapped his hand on his shoulder and looked at everyone, his eyes resting on Sinclair.

The other Captain held his gaze, questioning silently, relaxing when Sheridan nodded and smiled briefly before leaving. “He's only saying that because he doesn't know what you're like,” Ivanova said, picking up the thread of the conversation.

“Hey!” Garibaldi objected.

Franklin shook his head. “No, I have to agree with Susan on this one.”

“Oh yeah? Name one incident.”

They looked at each other, then at Sinclair, who leant forward. “Well....”

TBC


	29. 204 A Distant Star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of many chapters I started writing some time ago (last summer to be exact!) and then just filled in the blanks over the last couple of weeks. I'm notoriously bad for beta'ring (as in I don't!) so I hope it flows okay, and that I took out all my notes (another bad habit I have, leaving them in!)

_February 2259_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Morning, Jeff.”

“Morning, Mike,” Sinclair said, smiling up at his friend. “Sleep well?”

“Like a baby. You?”

“Pretty well, actually.”

“Guess it helps having that hole in your head filled in,” Garibaldi said to him as he started shovelling food into his mouth.

Sinclair made a non-committal noise and chuckled as he watched his friend. “Glad to see things are finally back to normal.”

Garibaldi replied, but the words were lost in the food, making the Captain laugh at him before tucking into his own breakfast. While it was true he had slept better after being given some answers regarding his past, the real reason for last night's slumber had just hobbled into the mess hall. Not that he was going to tell the Chief that.

“Good morning, Commander.”

“Captain. Mr Garibaldi.”

“Ivanova.”

She shook her head. “You still eat like a starving man.”

Garibaldi shrugged. “Yeah, well, I've got a lot of catching up to do. You know the food in med lab is...well, it's not mess hall grub and it certainly isn't BC.”

Sinclair nodded in whole-hearted agreement, but Ivanova frowned. “BC?”

Garibaldi waved the question aside as being unimportant. “I though Sheridan might be here.”

“I haven't seen him,” Ivanova replied. She caught an exchange of glances between the security chief and Sinclair and rolled her eyes. “Whatever it is, Michael, you can say it.”

“Alright. I just wondered how the two of you were getting along.”

The question was directed at Sinclair and for a moment he wondered if Garibaldi meant him and Ivanova or him and Sheridan. “He still irritates me for some reason, but I've accepted that he's here and we need to make the best of the situation.”

“He's trying too hard,” Garibaldi replied.

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. Sheridan is trying too hard. To fit in, to please people and have people like him. He's like an overexcited puppy.”

Ivanova choked on her drink. “Garibaldi!”

He grinned at her. “What? I'm just telling it like it is.”

“Well don't,” she replied.

“What did Doctor Franklin say about your foot?” Sinclair asked, changing the subject.

“I need to use a cane for a week or so and then I should be as good as new.”

“I'll put out a bulletin,” Garibaldi said.

Ivanova looked at him. “For?”

“People to be cautious. I mean, you...armed with a walking stick....” He shook his head. “I don't know, seems like a recipe for disaster if you ask me. Ow!”

Sinclair grinned as Ivanova moved the cane back to the side of the table. “I think that's an excellent idea, Chief.”

Garibaldi stood. “Yeah. I'll see to it straight away.” He limped exaggeratedly out of the mess hall, Sinclair's laughter following him.

“Did you scare Captain Sheridan away by any chance?” Ivanova asked when they were alone.

Sinclair just looked at her, slightly offended. “Of course not.”

She smiled and reached across the table as though to touch his hand, then realised where they were and pretended to brush something from the table. “I was joking.”

He smiled back. “I know. So, how are you finding the promotion?”

“More credits, more headaches,” she replied.

“If you think it's too soon....”

“No! No, no, no, it's fine. I can handle it.”

He nodded. “I know you can.”

They made small talk over the remainder of breakfast, then headed up to C&C together, once again comfortable in each other's presence. Sinclair had agreed to back off a little, and Ivanova had agreed to be less short-tempered, though if she knew of the bet the Captain had with Garibaldi how how long that would last...well, Garibaldi would be happier and richer.

Sheridan wasn't on the command deck when they arrived, but walked through the doors a little later, just as Ivanova was chuckling over a message which had just arrived for him. Sinclair listened to their banter and tried not to feel jealous, though when he heard there was an Explorer class ship arriving, all of his attention was on that. He had only ever seen one before, briefly, and was looking forward to a more detailed inspection, if possible. And he knew Sheridan and Maynard were close; perhaps seeing an old friend might settle the younger Captain down a little.

“Explorer ship coming through the gate, Commander.”

Sinclair looked down at the tech who had spoken, fully intent on replying as he thought he was being addressed when Ivanova spoke, and he realised she was now the Commander, not him. And though he was happy with his promotion, he felt a strange sense of loss over his former title. Perhaps if he had been the only Captain on the station, he would have felt differently, but for him, 'the Commander' seemed more his name than Jeffrey Sinclair a lot of the times.

“Sir, Captain Maynard is requesting permission to come aboard,” Ivanova said.

Sheridan was grinning like a maniac. “Granted, granted. And tell him I'll meet him personally.”

She smiled back. “Yes, sir.”

“Now, if you'll excuse me, Commander.”

Ivanova hobbled over to Sinclair a few moments later, a slight smile on her face. “Was it me or did you almost answer to 'Commander' just now?”

Sinclair smiled wryly. “I thought that had gone unnoticed, but yes, I did.”

“Having trouble with the new rank?”

“Sometimes.”

“Want to swap?”

“Not really.”

Ivanova leaned in closer and dropped her voice. “And is it me or did Captain Sheridan just ignore you completely?” she asked with a frown.

Sinclair sighed and nodded. “Yes, he did.”

“Does that...bother you?” She spoke cautiously.

He fixed her with a piercing state. “Wouldn't it bother you?” Then he held his hand up. “Please don't tell me again how difficult this must be for him. I'm sure it wasn't done on purpose.”

Ivanova recognised the effort Sinclair was making and surrendered. “Alright.”

“Can you handle things here? There are a few people I need to see.”

“Yes, sir.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Delenn accosted Sinclair as the doors to the transport tube were about the shut, and despite their talk, he found his smile was slightly forced, something he was sure she would notice but wouldn't comment on.

“Captain Sinclair,” she said, inclining her head.

“Ambassador Delenn,” he replied.

“I have just spoken with Captain Sheridan,” she informed him, quickly filling in the details.

“Let me know when and where, and I'll be there,” he assured her, then he turned more fully towards her. There was something in her manner when talking about the other Captain that piqued his interest. “May I ask you a question, Ambassador?”

Delenn looked at him and smiled warmly. “Of course you may...Jeff.”

The use of his first name caught him off guard a little and Sinclair realised that perhaps he was being foolish, about a lot of things. “I was wondering what you thought of Captain Sheridan.”

For a second only, Delenn's expression was unguarded and Sinclair thought he saw something he couldn't possibly have seen. “He is...a contradiction. He is a warrior, yet I sense in him a great deal of kindness. And although he too fought us in the war, even claimed victory for your side by destroying our flag ship, he seems accepting of Minbari.”

“Especially of you,” Sinclair pointed out gently.

She merely inclined her head in acknowledgement. “Acceptance must start with one person, and it grows from there.” A small frown appeared on her perfect forehead. “But I also sense a great deal of confusion in him. And he is hiding something.”

“Everybody hides things, Delenn,” Sinclair said.

“True.”

“You like him.” It was a simple statement, but with an underlying strength.

Delenn held his gaze. “You do not?”

“I'm not sure,” Sinclair admitted. “Sometimes I think I see a side to him that no one else does.”

“Then you should trust your instincts.” The transport tube stopped and Delenn stepped out. “Captain.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan remained 'busy' for most of the day, and while Sinclair didn't begrudge him the time to catch up with an old friend and commanding officer, he wanted to remind the other Captain that there was still a station to run, and that was a task which was supposed to be split between the two of them, as Sheridan was so fond of pointing out. Sinclair was trying to be patient, but Sheridan was testing those limits again. Then he saw Garibaldi coming down the hallway and shouted to him.

“Chief,” he said with a smile when he saw his friend, but it quickly faded when he took in the expression on Garibaldi's face. “Problem?”

“You could say that. Actually, maybe two, one more serious than the other.”

“I'm listening.”

“I had a check up with the Doc, just to make sure everything's working like it should be, and he told me that I don't eat right.”

“I don't see the problem,” Sinclair said, his smile returning.

Garibaldi fixed him with a mock-glare. “Oh yeah? Well how about this – he wants me to go on a diet.” He held his hands up dramatically. “Wait, wait – 'food plan'.”

The Captain chuckled. “And the problem is?”

“He's going to call all the senior staff in for...evaluation.”

Sinclair groaned. “You're not serious, Michael.”

“As a rip in a spacesuit,” Garibaldi assured him. “Well, the Doc is.”

“Great. You're right, that is a problem.” He looked at his friend closely. “And the real bee in your bonnet?”

The Chief sighed. “Sheridan. I thought the guy was okay, you know? Seemed to be settling down a little. But suddenly he's gone from over-eager to over-cranky. Now, maybe he's just having a bad day, but it seemed more than that to me. Damn near tore my head off over nothin'.”

Sinclair looked thoughtful. “He does seem different with Captain Maynard on board.”

“Well, whatever the reason he'd better get over it pretty soon or he'll lose friends before he's even made them.” Garibaldi's link beeped. “Never fails.”

“I'll have a word with him, Chief,” Sinclair promised.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova was slightly surprised that Garibaldi hadn't joined them in AirHarts for drinks, but as Sinclair was absent as well, it was a good bet something had come up, or the two of them just had their heads together over something. And of course, someone had to notice.

“I thought Captain Sinclair might show up,” Maynard said mildly, but Ivanova sensed an undercurrent of hostility.

“He's busy,” Sheridan replied quickly, just as Ivanova said, “He's probably busy.”

The two of them looked at each other and for a moment, she wondered if Sinclair's exclusion from the gathering was deliberate. But her suspicions were soon forgotten as the two Captains present launched into an amusing tale which ended with them both embarrassed. The rest of the evening passed pleasantly, and when they all split up, Ivanova decided to stay for a while before starting the long trek back to her quarters.

Sinclair knew about the get together in AirHarts and was disgruntled that neither him nor Garibaldi was invited, but he tried not to take it personally. He saw Sheridan and Maynard walking up the stairs towards one of the overhead passes and he hurried to catch them. But before he rounded the corner, he caught Maynard unusually serious voice and stopped to listen to what he was saying, and when he had finished, he walked off, leaving Sheridan to mull over his words. Sinclair took several calming breaths, not sure what it all meant apart from the fact that he wasn't crazy, and then stepped around the corner.

“Captain Sheridan.”

Sheridan grimaced and turned. “Yes, Captain Sinclair?”

He was going to try diplomacy, but – as Garibaldi had said – there was something different about the other Captain and it made Sinclair's hackles rise. “Whatever you're going through, don't take it out on other people. Mr Garibaldi may be a lot of things, but I'm sure he didn't deserve your poor treatment.”

“I thought Mr Garibaldi was more mature than that,” Sheridan replied coolly, pronouncing each word carefully. “I didn't peg him as a 'run telling tales' kinda guy.”

“He isn't, he reports the happenings on board this station and the behaviour of its inhabitants without bias or prejudice,” Sinclair snapped. “Maybe you should try it sometime.”

Things went rapidly downhill from there and just before the heated argument could turn into something physical, a sharp voice interrupted. “Stop!” Both men turned to see Ivanova stood there looking aghast. “What is the matter with you?” she asked, looking at them both but her gaze lingered longer on Sinclair.

Sheridan glared at the other Captain. “Nothing,” he said, and strode off.

“Ivanova...,” Sinclair started, hoping to explain what happened before she went nuclear at him.

He didn't get the chance. “Have you been lying to me this whole time?” Ivanova asked heatedly. “You tell me that you're trying to give Sheridan a chance, but I'm not seeing it.”

“He isn't himself, he's short-tempered....”

“Because you make him that way! If you had bothered to come to AirHarts, you would have seen a different side to him, but if you insist of keeping yourself separate, you'll only ever know the side you want to see!” With that, she turned and walked away, and though Sinclair could have easily caught her up, he didn't bother to go after her.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Franklin was surprised his 'food plan' implementation had gone so smoothly, at least so far. Three out of the four senior staff had been examined and given their plans, and so far no one had threatened him with bodily harm, not even Ivanova, which surprised him. But then he had known from the moment she had walked into med lab that something was wrong. He also knew she wouldn't talk about it unless she wanted to, but he had to try and help.

“Here, I want you to follow this food plan,” he said mildly as he handed her a sheet of paper.

Ivanova read it quickly and her expression became outraged. “But I'll put weight on!” she exclaimed indignantly.

“Yes, at first, but you'll soon lose it again,” Franklin offered with a smile, his eyes on the cane. Then quickly, before she could retort, hoping to catch her off guard, he continued. “Susan, I know you'll probably just tell me it's nothing or none of my business, but is everything okay?”

“Not really, but I hope it will be in time,” Ivanova replied with a faint smile. Then she look at the sheet of paper again. “Figures. All my life I've fought against imperialism and now, I _am_ the expanding Russian frontier!

“Those are very nice borders,” Franklin called after her as she headed out of med lab, at the same time Sinclair walked in. The two acknowledged each other with a curt nod only; the doctor began to suspect what the trouble was and frankly, it was getting tiring. But outwardly he smiled, knowing that Sinclair caught his comment to Ivanova. “Captain.”

Sinclair just smiled back. “Doctor?”

“Let's start, shall we?”

“As long as you don't make any comments about _my_ borders.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

There was silence on the command deck as Ivanova and Sheridan stood side by side watching the Cortez pull away from the station. The Captain was unhappy, it was obvious to everyone around him, and Ivanova wondered once again if Sinclair was right in his assessment of him, a thought which filled her with chagrin. Not because Sinclair would gloat over it; the opposite, in fact. But her pride would make things uncomfortable for both of them.

Then Sheridan turned and smiled. “May I?”

Ivanova nodded and stepped back, but she was certain now, having looked at him properly, that Sinclair, and Garibaldi, were both correct; something wasn't quite right with him, though she wasn't sure what.

The Cortez departed, and Sheridan stood staring out of the viewport long after the ship had disappeared from view, long after Ivanova had left for some diplomatic errands, long enough for hi back and legs to ache from being stationary too long. With a heavy sigh, he turned and walked off the command deck, heading for the office, which was where Ivanova found him a short while later. And as soon as they started discussing the diplomatic problem she had brought to him, it was more than obvious he had a bee in his bonnet.

“Is there something else, Commander?” Sheridan asked her, knowing her hesitation before leaving was deliberate and knowing he couldn't escape the inevitable any longer. Ivanova was a lot more perceptive than he remembered, something which had probably come with age and experience, but was also in no small part due to Sinclair, he suspected. And despite himself, Sheridan found he actually did want to talk to her.

“May I speak frankly?” Ivanova asked, sitting back down.

Sheridan put down his pen and gave her his full attention. “Yeah.”

Ivanova drew in a deep breath. “Ever since the Cortez arrived, you haven't been yourself. And that is something I have noticed, without any input from Captain Sinclair or Mr Garibaldi.”

“You heard about that, huh?”

“You'd be surprised how quickly news travels around here.” Ivanova gave a small shrug. “I wondered if you would like to talk about it.”

Sheridan got up and started pacing. “I command star ships, Susan, not...cities in space. The petty complaints, the endless bickering, the constant negotiations. Jack Maynard said this wasn't what I was trained for and he's right. I am constantly sandbagged, drowned, swamped and snowed under by nothing but trivia!” He threw some files down on the desk to emphasise his point.

Ivanova had to try hard to keep the exasperation from her face but she wasn't sure she succeeded. “You've always run a tight ship and that's an admirable trait, but B5 can never run in quite the same way,” she said in an attempt to reason with him, but wasn't encouraged when he hung his head. “And you've had to settle your share of crew squabbles before, so excuse me for saying this, but it must be something more than just that!”

Her frustrated tone brought Sheridan up short, and while he was aware he sounded like a petulant child, he couldn't help it. He sat down again, deflated and defeated. “Maynard is right, I've been beached.”

Ivanova just stared at him, her anger rising. That was what his mood was all about? “Hardly,” she said curtly. “It takes as much energy, intelligence and patience to run B5 as it does to run a starship.” She looked at him closely. “Is that all?”

Sheridan's own irritation started to show through. “'Is that all?'” he echoed. “Isn't it enough? They have turned me into a bureaucrat, Ivanova, a politician. I mean, look at this desk – you know me, is this me?”

“No, but there are two of you sharing it,” Ivanova pointed out.

Sheridan leant forward suddenly. “Exactly! So why is it in such a state? Why is that there are _supposed_ to be two of us running this station, but only one of us seems to be doing all the work?” He sat back. “When I got the call to come here, I thought it was a great opportunity...until I learnt I'd be sharing command. How do you think that feels?”

“About the same as it does to Captain Sinclair,” Ivanova told him forcefully. “And you're right, one of you seems to be doing all the work, and whoever it is will depend on whose point of view you look at it.”

Sheridan knew she had a point but wasn't going to admit it. “He is making my life hell!”

“Can you blame him? And how would you feel if it was the other way around?” Her questions hung in the air, impossible to ignore. But before he could reply, she continued, going for the jugular. “You're here because the President _thought_ you could handle it. As your executive officer, I have the right to know...was he wrong?”

He sighed. “I don't know,” he admitted. “Maybe he was and it's taken this long to sink in.” Sheridan looked up and was surprised to see concern on Ivanova's face now. “Look, switch those alien delegations around and see if you can smooth any ruffled feathers.”

“Yes, sir.” She nodded and smiled briefly before standing and hobbling towards the door, but his voice stopped her.

“Erm, does the ambassador have feathers?” he asked, his expression more like what she was used to seeing.

Recognising the effort he was making, Ivanova's smile grew. “Not that I know of, sir.” She nodded again and left without any further delays. Sheridan sighed again and started once more to try and make inroads on the paperwork.

And outside the officer, Sinclair counted to ten before moving off unnoticed, his face an expressionless mask.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Garibaldi looked up when someone sat on the stool next to him, a little surprised. “Captain. What brings you here?”

Sinclair frowned. “Dinner. You?”

“Same.” Realisation dawned on the security chief's face. “Ivanova.”

The Captain nodded as well. “I'm not surprised.”

“You know something I don't, Jeff?”

“A great many things, Michael,” Sinclair replied with a smile.

Garibaldi rolled his eyes. “There you go, speaking Vorlon again. Hey, Ivanova. You really should wear your hair down more often.”

Ivanova smiled at the compliment. “Thanks, Garibaldi. Captain.”

“Commander.”

“How's that fitting you?” Garibaldi asked.

“Ups and downs.”

“Wanna trade?”

“Not really.”

Sinclair smiled at their banter. “Shall we order?”

Ivanova's smile slid a little. “Actually, that's one of the reasons I suggested dinner. I mean, if we have to do this diet....”

“Food plan,” Garibaldi corrected her.

She glared at him. “We might as well do it together.”

“Solidarity,” Sinclair said.

Ivanova nodded. “Exactly.”

He then grinned. “And if we decide we don't like what we're eating, we can swap it around.”

She attempted to look serious but ended up grinning too. “That as well.”

Sinclair was glad they were back on better terms, without actually having to talk about anything, but his mood soured when his plate of salad arrived. He speared a piece of lettuce viciously and brandished it at the other two. “This is torture, this diet....”

Garibaldi was looking down at his own plate with distaste. “Food plan,” he corrected distractedly.

“Whatever!” Sinclair and Ivanova replied together.

“Wait, where is Stephen? And Captain Sheridan?” Garibaldi asked. “Are you telling me they don't have to take part in this?”

“Good point,” Sinclair said. “And if they don't....”

Ivanova nodded. “Lead by example.”

With matching grins, they swapped plates, eyeing their new meals with undisguised delight. Until they heard a coughing from one direction, and suppressed laughter from the other. Looking around, they saw Franklin watching them with a disapproving expression, shaking his head, and not too far from them was Sheridan, also shaking his head but grinning in amusement. Reluctantly, and with the air of children caught with their hands in the cookie jar, they swapped their plates back and started to eat with a great lack of enthusiasm, at least for a while.

Sinclair suddenly stared at Garibaldi. “What? What?” the security chief asked, looking around.

“We need to encourage the good doctor away from this ridiculous diet plan. I don't think it's entirely proper that neither him nor Sheridan have to follow it.”

“I'm listening.”

“We need a plan, and if I'm not mistaken, you are already in the middle of one.” Both Ivanova and Garibaldi started to speak, but Sinclair held his hand up to silence them. Then, very seriously, he said to Garibaldi, “Michael, it's time for bagna cauda, isn't it?”

The security chief's eyes widened. “Bagna cauda? I don't know what you're talking about.”

“What's 'bagna cauda'?” Ivanova asked, frowning, but both men ignored her.

“Yes, you do. And I think it's our only option.”

“Jeff, you know that's reserved for a special occasion only,” Garibaldi protested.

“Which is coming up.”

“Yeah, but....”

“Do you want to keep doing this diet?” Sinclair asked him, his tone deceptively mild.

Garibaldi looked at him. “Right. Bagna cauda. I'm on it.”

“Is someone going to explain what is going on?” Ivanova asked in exasperation.

“Trust us,” the security chief said.

“Knowing your track record of pranks? I'd rather play cards with Londo,” she replied.

“Ouch.”

“Susan, I promise this is nothing serious,” Sinclair said seriously. “In fact, it won't affect Sheridan at all. Just Dr Franklin.”

Ivanova looked at him carefully. “And you're sure it'll get us out of doing this diet?”

“Absolutely.”

“Can't wait.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Did you enjoy dinner?” Sheridan asked innocently when Ivanova hobbled onto the command deck.

She glared at him. “I hate you.”

His eyes widened. “Why, Commander, I'm shocked. Shocked, hurt and offended.” She continued to glare, so he cleared his throat and changed tacks. “Did you sort things out with the ambassador?”

“Yes, sir.”

Sheridan was about to continue their banter when they started to receive a mayday from the Cortez, and the colour drained from his face. When they learnt that she was stranded in hyperspace, Ivanova thought he was going to break the railing, he was gripping it that tightly.

“I want all available pilots in the squadron bay in twenty minutes,” he ordered her after a while.

Ivanova watched him for a moment, choosing her words carefully. “Captain, I shouldn't need to remind you that no ship in hyperspace has ever been found again.”

Sheridan turned on her, his anger bubbling close to the surface, but he swallowed it back, realising she was just doing her job, and sighed. “I know. Inform Sinclair, he should know what's going on.”

“I don't think that's a good idea,” Ivanova muttered, mostly to herself.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. I'll tell him.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair was waiting for them in the squadron bay, his face creased with concern. “Any news?”

Sheridan shook his head. “Just the same thing.”

“I take it you have a plan.”

Sheridan looked at Ivanova. “We do,” she said.

He nodded. “I hope it's a good one.” He looked around as the pilots started to gather. “Captain, whatever decision you make, I'll support. If we can bring the Cortez home safely....”

“Thank, you Captain.”

As Sheridan gave his speech, and he and Ivanova had relayed their plan to the pilots, Sinclair looked at them both, admiring how well they worked together and recognising the small pang of jealousy hot in his chest, the one that arose whenever Sheridan looked at Ivanova. He knew there was nothing but admiration in the other Captain's gaze, nothing but friendship, but still....

“I'm going,” Sheridan declared suddenly. “We can't ask these pilots to risk their lives without one of us being out there. And....”

“I'm the logical choice,” Sinclair interrupted in a tone that brooked no arguments, though Sheridan's expression said he thought otherwise. But luckily, he was too busy staring at his counterpart to notice the look that Ivanova was giving Sinclair, who knew there would be hell to pay later for his decision...if he returned. “Look, Captain, I have no emotional attachment to the Cortez or her crew, so I'm not likely to do something stupid.” Ivanova coughed, though it sounded remarkably like 'liar' or worse. “I'll go with them and we'll bring the Cortez back.” He swallowed. “You stay here and look after the station for me.”

Sinclair almost added something about Ivanova, but held his tongue. He caught her eye once more, tried to convey that he wasn't being heroic, just sensible; they'd had enough talks about his heroism, which sometimes manifested itself as stupidity, for him to start thinking seriously before rushing headlong into any situation. And although Ivanova's expression indicated she understood what he was doing, she still was not pleased with him.

“Captain, can I have a word, please?” she asked, her polite tone not fooling either of them.

“I'll be in C&C,” Sheridan said, nodding once to Sinclair before walking away.

“Susan....”

“I knew this would happen. The minute Sheridan ordered the pilots down here, I knew you'd go with them,” Ivanova said.

“Someone should. But that's not the only reason. And no, I'm not trying to get myself killed either.” He sighed. “This is about Sheridan. He needs to know he can trust me as well. Besides, the mission is what matters; the individual is expendable.”

She nodded in understanding. “I don't want you to go,” she murmured quietly. “I can't deal with losing you permanently.”

Aware they weren't really alone, Sinclair reached for her shoulders. “You won't. Not today. Not ever. No matter the distance, no matter the circumstances, we will always be together; even in death, we will find each other. I promise.”

Ivanova stared at him for a long moment, etching his face to her memory. “Just come home safely...Captain.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair heard the blessing from Sheridan and appreciated it more than the other Captain could know. He could also see Ivanova's expression in his mind's eye and it tore at him, but he knew he was doing the right thing. He didn't bother with any last minute orders or further words of encouragement to the other StarFury pilots; he just focussed on the mission.

As they entered hyperspace, Sinclair took the lead with Galus and Keffer while the other pilots stretched out behind them. At first their distances from one another was small, but as time passed with no luck, they began to separate further and further, until a tendril of worry began to crawl up Sinclair's spine about their chances of ever getting back themselves.

_“Captain! I've got a signal!”_ Keffer suddenly exclaimed in surprise.

Sinclair let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. “Good work, Lieutenant. Commander Galus, hold position here while Lieutenant Keffer and I range out to find them.”

_“Yes, sir,”_ Galus replied with a smile. He hadn't held out much hope of even coming close to finding the missing ship, let alone actually being able to track her. But now they had a chance. Both Sinclair and Keffer were two of the finest pilots he had ever served with; if anyone could find the Cortez now, it was them.

A short while later, Sinclair picked up a weak signal from the Cortez and made to slow down, ready to hold position while Keffer scouted out closer to the ship. As he turned, a huge black...thing appeared out of nowhere in hyperspace, attacked Galus' StarFury, and managed to knock Sinclair and Keffer off course before disappearing again.

“Computer, what the hell was that?” the Captain growled as he manhandled his ship into staying still, trying to ignore the stab in his gut that he got every time one of his crew was killed.

“Unknown. Systems are offline,” the computer replied.

It was then that Sinclair felt an icy shiver of fear trickle down his back. “Communications?”

“Minimal.”

“Do we still have the gate's signal?” he asked, dreading the answer.

“Negative.”

“Computer, patch me through to Lieutenant Keffer.”

_“Captain!”_

“Keffer, are you alright?”

_“Fine, sir. Some of my systems have been knocked out, though,”_ Keffer replied.

“Do you have a lock on the gate's signal?” Sinclair found himself holding his breath as he waited for a reply.

_“Yes, sir,”_ Keffer said after a long pause.  >em>“But it's shaky. One minute it's there, the next it's gone. I think my long range scanners are out. But I think I can pick it up stronger once I'm heading in the right direction. But I don't have a fix on the Cortez. Sorry, Captain.”

Sinclair clenched his jaw. “Don't worry, I have it. Computer, open up a channel to the Cortez.”

“Channel open.”

“Cortez, this is Sinclair. Can you manoeuvre?”

“ _Engines are online, Captain,_ ” Maynard replied, relief in his voice. _“I didn't think you'd find us.”_

Sinclair didn't answer. “Lieutenant Keffer has a weak lock on the gate's signal, but I don't think it will last. Follow him and he'll lead you back to the station.”

There was a silence. _“Sinclair?”_ Maynard asked, a whole question in that single word.

“My thrusters aren't working, and if you swing by to pick me up, Keffer could lose the signal permanently and we'll all die,” Sinclair replied in a matter-of-fact tone. “Go.”

“ _Sir...,_ ” Keffer started to say, but Sinclair cut him off.

“Take the Cortez and get out of here.”

He tired again. “ _But sir...._ ”

“That's an order, Lieutenant!” Sinclair barked.

Keffer stared out of his cockpit at the other StarFury. “ _Yes, sir_ ,” he replied stiffly.

“ _Sinclair...._ ” Maynard trailed off, not knowing what else to say. After all, what could he say?

“Go,” Sinclair said, softer, and without another word, Keffer's StarFury and the Cortez began to move, in the direction of home.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Why don't you take a break?” Sheridan snapped at Ivanova. He was worried about Maynard and the pilots he had sent out on the... _insane_ mission, he realised. Insane and courageous and he had no _right_ to be safe on the station, not when they were risking their lives, not when Sinclair....

“Why don't you?” Ivanova retorted sharply. “Sir.”

He was about to yell at her, but then realised Sinclair was the reason she was so wound up. Not only had they been serving together for over a year, they also seemed to be good friends, and Sheridan understood instantly that what he was feeling about Maynard was what Ivanova was feeling about Sinclair.

“I'm sorry, Susan, it's just...I feel so damned useless!” he exclaimed.

“And you think I feel any less useless?” she replied, trying to hide the amount of concern she felt. She was almost out of her mind with worry, her gut tied in such a knot it was difficult to even breathe. If anything happened to Sinclair.... She shook her head a little, forcing herself to be professional. “Maybe this will turn into a wake, but until then, let's just remember that blessing.”

Sheridan nodded, unaware of the depth of turmoil Ivanova was suffering. “You're right, I just....”

“Sir!” one of the technicians shouted. “I've got ships coming through the jump gate!”

Both Sheridan and Ivanova turned eagerly to look at the screen, and sure enough, the Cortez came through the gate seconds later, flanked by three StarFuries. The Captain's joy quickly faded when he saw two missing ships.

“Cortez this is Babylon 5. Where are the other two ships?”

But Maynard was silent.

Confused and worried, Sheridan turned to Ivanova. “Who?”

Ivanova punched the console a few times before replying, “Galus, sir,” in a regretful tone. But then she paled considerably and her eyes began to tear up.

Sheridan's mouth went very dry, his stomach dropping to his feet. “Who?” he repeated, his voice hoarse.

“Captain Sinclair,” she said after a moment or two, when her voice came back to her.

_“I'm sorry, John.”_ Maynard's voice finally filtered through the comm system.

Sheridan didn't reply, he couldn't. There was nothing to say, not to Maynard, who he had just rescued, or to Ivanova, who was trying to be stoical but was on the verge of breaking down. Instead, he just walked stiffly from the command deck, his heart heavy.

JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI

Garibaldi had all but forgotten about his package from Orwell, given the news he had just received. His best friend and his commanding officer was dead. Suddenly there didn't seem to be much point in celebrating any more. But Orwell had gone to a lot of trouble to secure the ingredients for bagna cauda, and without Franklin knowing, so the least Garibaldi could do was collect it.

“Well, well. Your reputation precedes you, Mr Orwell,” Franklin said as he leant over to inspect the box, startling the pair. 

Garibaldi looked at Orwell. “Give us a minute, would ya?” He then turned to Franklin. “Look, Doc....”

“Mr Garibaldi, the food plan is for your own good,” he explained. 

“I know, it's just...well, bagna cauda is special.” He told the doctor all about his father, how he would make the dish for him, and why he carried on the tradition. “Usually, Sinclair would share it with me, but now....” His throat constricted painfully.

Franklin put the olive oil back in the box, his own sorrow a heavy burden too. “Look, why don't you still make enough for two?”

Garibaldi stared at him, surprised. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I think...it's important...to you.”

“Alright, Doc, you're on.” He smiled briefly. “Thanks.”

Franklin just nodded. “So, what time?”

“Give me a couple of hours. There's something I have to do first.”

JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI

Sheridan stood in the Zen garden, his hands in his pockets, his eyes unfocussed. He couldn't believe Sinclair was gone, couldn't believe the other Captain had done such a thing...for him. He knew he had done it to save the Cortez, but Sheridan also believed Sinclair had done it as a favour to him. It tore at him, made him feel guilty for how he had behaved, not only in the past, but since his arrival on the station. Both of them had been stupid, trying to wind each other up, like they were kids again at the academy, like it was a contest between them. Neither of them could understand that they were equals, in every way...until now. Now Sheridan understood...now it was too late.

Hearing soft footfalls, he turned, somehow unsurprised to see Delenn standing there. “Captain...I can come back if you wish to be alone.”

There was a catch in her voice he didn't miss, and he knew she had come seeking confirmation about Sinclair. “No, no,” he replied, unconsciously reaching for her but stopping short of touching her. “Please.”

“I heard the news, and I came to see...if it was true. Is Captain Sinclair truly...gone?”

Sheridan nodded, finishing by hanging his head. “I wanted to go, but he insisted.”

“Of course,” Delenn said, a note of fondness and pride in her voice. “That is the kind of man he was.”

“Yes, but he didn't have to die,” Sheridan replied. “He shouldn't have died.”

“But he saved others. At the right moment, they were in the right place. They all knew what to do, especially Captain Sinclair.” She paused. “And you.”

Sheridan eyed her curiously. “What makes you think this is the right place for me?”

Delenn smiled mysteriously and started to walk, forcing him to fall in step with her. What followed was quite possibly one of the most astonishing conversations he had ever had with someone, and he never thought he would be having it with a Minbari. Never thought he was actually start to feel the inklings of faith seeping into his system...never thought he would feel any sort of attachment to another person, especially another woman, like he was feeling then. Not after Anna.

“Sometimes,” Delenn was saying, “The universe requires a change of perspective.”

And Sheridan realised she was right. Smiling for the first time since Maynard had left, and nodding in genuine agreement, he reached out as they started to walk again, his hand hovering in the small of her back.

JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI

Sinclair longed to wipe the sweat from his face but couldn't; longed to stretch his legs and back, but was stuck in the position he had been in for the last...well, however long it had been. All he could think about was the Cortez, hoping she had made it home with the StarFuries, and how annoyed Ivanova was going to be with him.

Ivanova.

Susan.

Commander.

Sinclair sighed. It didn't matter how he thought of her, he still found himself at the same conclusion: he loved her. As a friend, an outstanding officer, and more; he thought he might well be _in_ love with her. They had shared some special moments over the last year, some tender moments stolen at opportune and inopportune times. Those memories meant the world to him, and he had found out at New Year that they were important to Ivanova too. Sinclair just hadn't been brave enough to ask _how_ important.

He knew the regulations frowned severely upon relationships between officers in the same chain of command; it was a thinly veiled 'absolutely forbidden'. But Babylon 5 wasn't a ship, wasn't bound by quite the same rules...or at least Sinclair kept telling himself. He knew that if he and Ivanova really wanted to make a go of something, they could work it out. Work a way around the rules. Besides, Sinclair knew that the moment an officer started to care about another in any way, their judgement was already compromised; Sheridan's response to Maynard's distress call was a clear indicator of that.

But now, he would never have the chance to find out what he and Ivanova could have been; he would never know. And he found that was the single biggest regret of his life.

The same ship that splashed Galus and stranded Sinclair suddenly reappeared in hyperspace, opened a jump point and left again, not seeming to notice that Sinclair was there.

“Computer, track unidentified object,” he ordered, his heart starting to race as hope disguised as adrenaline, started to pump through his veins.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova noticed a change in Sheridan the moment he walked into AirHarts, and briefly, she hated how calm he seemed after what had just happened. Irrationally – or perhaps not – she wondered if he was glad Sinclair was gone, but then he saw her, came over and squeezed her arm.

“I'm sorry, Susan. I never wanted this, ever.” He shook his head, his voice rough with emotion. “It should have been me, not him. This is his station, it always will be, no matter how long I'm here for or what anyone else says.”

Ivanova swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

Sheridan nodded, then looked around. “I thought Garibaldi would be here,” he said, sounding disapproving.

“He...had something to take care of,” Ivanova replied.

Sheridan understood there was more to that statement than what she was actually saying and let the matter drop. He glanced across the room where Maynard, Keffer and a large group of other officers and pilots had gathered. “I suppose we'd better get this over with.

They walked slowly over, taking in everyone's sombre expressions. “Commander Ivanova, John, I'm sorry,” Maynard addressed them both.

“It wasn't your fault, Jack,” Sheridan assured him.

“It's mine,” Keffer said quietly.

Ivanova frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I should have stayed, but he told me to bring the Cortez home,” Keffer explained. “He ordered me to go.”

“Captain Sinclair knew what he was doing,” Ivanova said quietly.

“And so did Galus,” Maynard added. “Both were good men and they saved my crew, Sinclair especially.” He glanced sideways at Sheridan, who was staring into his glass.

“He was a true hero,” the other Captain admitted quietly after a moment.

Ivanova nodded and lifted her glass, her eyes still a little puffy from crying, but dry now. “A reluctant hero,” she added.

Sheridan lifted his head to look at her, his expression shifting into one of concern. Then he moved on his feet, as if to shake an ache, but his shoulder ended up flush with Ivanova's, a gesture she didn't fail to notice, and she nodded almost imperceptibly in thanks.

“To Captain Sinclair and Commander Galus,” Maynard said, also lifting his glass, and everyone present toasted to the fallen pilots.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

In C&C, Garibaldi stared out of the observation dome, not seeing the stars but his friend's face. Even his 'illegal' shipment for his birthday meal couldn't lift his spirits now. Sinclair was gone. The one person who had been willing to give him a break, to give him a chance to prove himself, was dead. He shook his head, still unable to believe it or comprehend it, and he wasn't sure any amount of time would change that.

Suddenly, the computer beeped as the jump gate burst into life, and Garibaldi jumped himself, rushing to the console, unconsciously holding his breath. A single StarFury...could it be...?

_“Babylon 5, requesting permission to dock.”_

Garibaldi couldn't but grin in relief. “Captain, you're late,” he admonished his friend.

Sinclair smiled wearily. _“Sorry, Michael, but when I was getting dressed, I couldn't remember for a moment if I fastened or zipped first.”_

Garibaldi laughed and quickly covered it up with a cough. “In that case, Captain, you are excused. Permission to dock granted.” He punched a few buttons on the console. “And, Jeff? Welcome home.”

_“Thanks.”_

“Garibaldi to Sheridan.”

_“Sheridan, go.”_

“We just had a ship through the gate, sir. One of our StarFuries.”

Deathly silence. _“Is it...?”_

“Captain Sinclair is just docking,” Garibaldi told him. “He sounded a little tired.” All questions answered in two small sentences.

_“Thank you, Mr Garibaldi,”_ Sheridan replied, ending the conversation before expelling a loud breath and then shaking his head. “Son of a....”

Ivanova stood abruptly, interrupting him. “If you'll excuse me, there's someone I need to kill.”

“Again,” Keffer muttered under his breath.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair entered the locker room about the same time that Ivanova did, and for a long moment, they simply stared at each other, as if fixing their faces into their memories, until he finally broke the silence.

“I'm still your commanding officer, which means violence is out of the question.”

Ivanova glared at him. “Try and escape and I will be well within my rights to use this,” she said, brandishing the cane at him.

In three long strides, Sinclair was stood in front of her, well within striking distance but seemingly unconcerned for his safety. His helmet was still tucked under one arm and without breaking eye contact with her, he leant to one side and placed it on a bench.

“Susan,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse.

Her eyes glistening with unshod tears, Ivanova hobbled the last step into Sinclair's embrace. His strong arms came around her as he fingers curled into his flight suit. He was solid and warm and _real._

“Don't _ever_ do that again,” she mumbled into his chest. “Sir. It was stupid and idiotic, and damned heroic. As usual.” She pulled back to look at him. “Didn't Garibaldi give you a lecture on rushing head first into things last year? Didn't he tell you not to do it? Didn't _I_ tell you not to do it again?!”

“Susan....”

“Dammit, Jeff, it wasn't your responsibility! You're a captain now, your responsibility is to this station, your place is here!”

Sinclair stared down at her, his expression unreadable. “Would you have given this speech to Sheridan, Commander?” he asked.

“No, because I don't...,” Ivanova started in exasperation, then stopped suddenly as she realised what she was about to say.

Knowing they were alone, knowing he was taking a risk, Sinclair reached up a hand and brushed her cheek. “You don't what, Susan?”

She turned her face into his hand, partly to avoid looking directly at him and partly because she wanted to be closer to him. “Dammit, Jeff, because I don't care about him the way I care about you!” she exclaimed eventually.

Sinclair smiled despite himself. 'Dammit, Jeff' only came out when Ivanova was really angry with him, and as he pulled her back into his embrace, he promised himself he would make it up to her. “I'm sorry, Susan, but I had to go. I got to thinking about what you said, that I was being unfair to Sheridan, and when the Cortez disappeared....” He sighed, not realising Ivanova had stopped listening properly after the first three words, the sound of his heartbeat more soothing to her at that point than his voice. “Neither Sheridan nor I could have dealt with apologising and talking, but actions....”

“You're both warriors,” she replied. “And heroes.”

“Hmm. Does this mean I'm forgiven?” he asked lightly.

“Perhaps.”

Finally they parted, both in control of themselves once more, and Sinclair turned to his uniform, shrugging himself out of his flight suit at the same time. Until he realised Ivanova hadn't yet left.

“Something else, Commander?”

Ivanova just looked at him, her expression slightly incredulous. “What, you think after what just happened I'm about to let you out of my sight? Sir?” she replied. “Not just yet.”

Sinclair smiled and shook his head, and tried not to be embarrassed. True, she had seen him in various states of undress before, but usually in the safety of his quarters or her. “So talk to me, Susan. Did the others make it back alright?”

She nodded, then realised he had his back to her. “Yes, sir. Lieutenant Keffer seemed less than happy with you over your decision to send him back with the Cortez, but I think he'll get over it. Actually, with the death of Commander Galus, Zeta squadron is going to need a new leader. I think I'm going to give it to Keffer.”

“A good choice.” Sinclair turned as he zipped his jacket up. “Do you know where Sheridan is?”

Ivanova's eyes widened a fraction, her only outward sign of surprise. “He was in AirHarts, but he said he had some business to attend to afterwards, so I don't know if he's still there or not.”

Sinclair nodded. “You head back there. I'll join you in a little while.”

“Is that a promise?” she asked quietly.

Sinclair stepped forward and took her hand. “I promise, Susan.” Then, on impulse, he raised it to his lips and placed a brief kiss on the back before letting go and striding past her.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“So he's okay?” Franklin asked as Garibaldi put the finishing touches to dinner.

“As far as I know. Although once Ivanova's finished with him....” The security guard shrugged. “I just hope she leaves a piece for me.”

“I just wish someone would actually take their health seriously around here,” Franklin said acidly.

Garibaldi looked at him. “Come on, Doc, we all know you do a great job and if we really were in trouble, you'd be the first to know.” He hesitated. “I still haven't forgotten you saved my life.”

“Technically....”

“Stephen, I'm trying to give you a compliment here. Take it, will ya?”

Franklin smiled. “Alright, thank you.”

“Now, you are going to love this,” Garibaldi said, putting the pot down in front of him.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair paused in the doorway to the Captains' office to watch Sheridan getting to grips with the paperwork, and he felt a twinge of guilt. He had deliberately let the other Captain take care of all the reports and logs, and everything else that needed to be done, as revenge, almost, for his treatment of him when they were at the Academy.

Sheridan signed a few more reports before realising that whoever had entered the office had yet to speak, and he looked up to see Sinclair stood watching him, his hands in his pockets. For a moment they simply stared at each other, a silent conversation saying things they could never say out loud, and before either spoke, they had already reached an understanding.

“Good work, Captain,” Sheridan said eventually, returning to his task as the words left his mouth.

Sinclair smiled. “You too, Captain.” He crossed the room and sat opposite Sheridan, but before he could speak again, the other man looked up.

“Have you ever had a long talk with Ambassador Delenn?” Then he closed his eyes briefly. “Never mind, forget I asked. Stupid question,” he muttered.

Sinclair's smile grew as he leant back and stared at the ceiling. “In the last two and a half years, I have had some...interesting talks with Delenn, yes. And some of them have been long. Some have been surprisingly short, but considering she is a Minbari, short doesn't necessarily mean unimportant.”

Sheridan was watching the other Captain again, unbeknownst to Sinclair, and felt a sudden brief, irrational surge of jealousy at the fond smile adorning his face. “She seems to have a special relationship with the universe,” Sheridan remarked calmly.

He nodded in agreement as he brought his gaze back to the man opposite him. “Don't we all?” he replied. Sheridan blinked, caught by surprise at the other man's comment, and Sinclair took advantage of the silence. “Listen, why don't you slide half of that paperwork over here? Ivanova wants us in the officers' club to help celebrate Lieutenant Keffer's promotion to commander of Zeta squad, and this will go a lot quicker with two of us working at it.”

“A good call on the Commander's part,” Sheridan said as he passed half of the pads to Sinclair. For a moment, their eyes connected, and both accepted the apology the other offered silently. Then, with a half smile each, they set to work.

“I think we're going to need a bigger desk,” Sinclair remarked after a moment. “Or two....”

TBC


	30. 205 The Long Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life is crazy at the moment and I can't update as often as I'd like. In fact, I don't even have episode notes for the next few chapters written yet. :/ And my muse has wandered off - this chapter was particularly difficult to write. So apologies if it's lacking.

_February 2259_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

It was an ironic twist in their relationship, one Sinclair wasn't brave enough to point out. In the few weeks after his return to the station, Ivanova had accused him of being 'clingy' and after a few arguments and even more discussions, he agreed to back off. But since he had almost been lost in hyperspace rescuing the Cortez, he barely had a moment to himself as she was always there. It didn't really bother him, he found it more...amusing, but that morning there was something he needed to do which required solitude. Or more accurately, someone he needed to see.

He caught up with Garibaldi just as the Chief was leaving the security office. “Morning, Captain. Everything okay?”

“Michael, I need to talk to you,” Sinclair said quietly.

“What's up?” he asked, his expression slightly surprised.

Sinclair looked around to make sure they were alone. “Do you remember when we crashed in the desert on Mars? Our shuttle came down and we had to walk back to civilisation.”

“Remember? How could I forget? You know, I'm surprised we became friends after that little trip.” He gave the Captain a meaningful look.

“If I remember rightly, you deserved that black eye. You were hysterical, someone needed to calm you down and there was no one else about,” Sinclair replied innocently.

“You...you said it was an accident!” Garibaldi exclaimed.

“It was. But that doesn't mean you didn't deserve it.”

The security chief held his hands up. “Fine, fine. And by the way, I was _not_ hysterical. You, on the other hand, did some pretty fancy screaming....”

Sinclair glared at him. “Let's just leave it at that, shall we? You remember.”

“I remember.”

“Do you remember what we saw while walking?”

“Rocks. Dust. Red rocks. Red dust.” Garibaldi shrugged. “What do you mean...?” A look of comprehension dawned on his face and he shivered involuntarily. “Oh, you mean _that_.” Sinclair nodded gravely. “But what does that have to do with...?”

The Captain jerked his head down the corridor. “Come on, we'll talk in my quarters. I think you're going to find this very interesting.”

Thirty minutes later and the security chief could do nothing but stare at his friend. “And you're sure it was one of those...things?”

Sinclair nodded. “Absolutely.”

“I wondered how you made if out of hyperspace. We haven't really had a chance to talk since then.”

“I spotted it again and asked the computer to plot its trajectory. Once I figured out a pattern, I struck out in what I thought was the right direction.” He smiled. “I must have been lucky.”

“I'll say,” Garibaldi replied. He was silent for a moment. “And you and Sheridan?”

“We've been acting like children, Michael, as Ivanova repeatedly pointed out. We're going to see what happens if we actually start acting like adults.”

The security chief shrugged. “Fair enough. So, this...thing, it's a ship, right?”

“Definitely, but like nothing that's known to us,” Sinclair replied.

“Want me to look into it?” Garibaldi asked.

The Captain stared off into the distance for a moment, a cool breeze of fear dancing across his soul. “No. Leave it alone...for now. I have the feeling that whatever it is, we'll all know about it soon enough, and it isn't going to be pleasant.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova tried not to stab at the console while she waited for Sheridan to arrive on the command deck. Even though she had only linked him a short time ago, already it felt like he was late, which grated on her nerves. She knew it was all in her head, was well aware of the real reason she was stressed, but wouldn't and couldn't admit it. Since Sinclair had come back from hyperspace, a seemingly miraculous reappearance, she had been loath to let him out of her sight, aware she was doing exactly the same thing she had accused him of doing a few weeks ago. And now, without much warning, he had left again.

_Ivanova was surprised when the chimes to her quarters sounded. “Come,” she said, moving to stand in front of the door._

_Sinclair ducked in, his face surprisingly expressionless. “Commander.”_

_That grabbed her attention immediately; he never used her rank when they were alone. “Captain,” she responded. “Is there a problem?”_

_He sighed. “I have to go away for a few days. Ambassador Delenn has requested my help in a diplomatic matter.” He spread his hands. “I can't say any more than that.”_

_“I see.” Ivanova pursed her lips, aware there was more to this 'request' than either Sinclair knew or he was saying. “Have you spoken to Captain Sheridan about this?”_

_“Not yet.”_

_“Is it something you can tell him?”_

_“No.”_

_Their gazes locked for a few long moments before Ivanova finally broke the silence by speaking. “When will you be back?”_

_Sinclair took a step forward, finally softening a little. “It's just a few days, Susan.”_

_“It was only supposed to be a few hours last time. And permanently the time before that,” she reminded him._

_“It's just a few days,” he repeated softly._

_Ivanova just stared at him. “Then I'll see you when you get back.”_

She hadn't really meant to shut him out, it was just a surprise to her that he was suddenly leaving on a diplomatic mission, the likes of which had never happened before. It was odd, to say the least, but in the single instant she had managed to speak to Ambassador Delenn, the Minbari woman had assured her there was nothing to worry about. It did little to ease Ivanova's nerves.

“What have we got?” Sheridan asked as he walked onto the command deck.

Ivanova told him, aware of the stress levels in her voice. If the Captain noticed, he was too polite to bring it up, and in a great deal of silence, they watched as the ship, the Copernicus, came closer and closer to the station, both lost in their own thoughts. At least until Garibaldi arrived. He seemed to be back to his old self and his complete non-worry at Sinclair's absence did make Ivanova feel somewhat better.

“Helluva wrong turn to make,” he said after they discussed how the ship ended up all the way out in their sector of space.

Ivanova's eyes suddenly went wide. “We could just ask the pilot.”

Sheridan looked curiously. “There is someone alive in there. Bring her in,” he said, turning to Ivanova before tapping his link. “Med lab.”

_“Franklin.”_

“Meet us in docking bay four, Doctor. We may have a...patient for you.”

_“I'll be there in ten.”_

Sheridan turned to the others, grinning like a lunatic. “Let's check it out.”

Garibaldi and Ivanova looked at each other, then at all. “All of us?” the Commander asked.

“Sure, why not? Where's your sense of adventure?” the Captain asked, his grin, if possible, widening.

She looked to Garibaldi for help, but he just shrugged. “What the hell, you only live once, right?”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair stared out into space, his mind closed to his emotions, his gut tied in a cold knot. He hadn't had time to think about his new responsibilities, let alone accept them, and now Delenn was sending him back to Minbar.

_Sinclair looked up at the doorway, a sixth sense alerting him seconds before Delenn swayed into the room; to say she simply 'walked' would have been an understatement, he decided. He watched as she greeted him with a smile, but her eyes were scanning the room._

_“Captain Sheridan isn't here,” he told her, thinking she was looking for him. “He'll be back later.”_

_But instead, Delenn's smile increased in brightness and she stared directly at him. “Actually, Captain, it was you I wished to speak with.”_

_Sinclair immediately put his pen down and gestured for her to sit. “Please.” He leant back in his chair. “What courtesy can I pay the Minbari?”_

_“Unfortunately, it is more of a...necessity than a request,” she replied somewhat awkwardly, the smile sliding from her face. “And one which you can tell no one of.”_

_He stared at the ceiling for a time before bringing his gaze back to the woman in front of him. “Go on.”_

_“The instructions you received...before,” Delenn said carefully. “It is time to start acting upon them. You need to go to Minbar for training.”_

_“Training?” Sinclair repeated. “Am I to be the trainer or the trainee?”_

_She smiled slightly. “Both, Captain.” Then she hesitated. “I do not feel entirely comfortable with asking you do do this.”_

_He moved slowly, leaning forwards until he was hunched over his desk, his dark eyes boring into hers, a frown creasing his brow. “Why?”_

_“Despite our discussions, I still feel as though you are unhappy with me.”_

_“Delenn, it was a shock, I'll admit, but I've accepted what happened. And to continue blaming you would be pointless, not to mention destructive. No one can change what happened; it's in the past and can't be altered. All we can do is make sure it never happens again.”_

_When Delenn smiled this time, it was more genuine. “You are very wise, my dear friend. But still I feel something is bothering you.”_

_“It's just whole....teacher status....or leader, whatever you want to call it. I'm not entirely sure I'm comfortable with it.”_

_“Is it any different than what you are doing now?”_

_Sinclair's expression didn't change. “Yes, because they are Minbari.”_

_“And they will follow you.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Even I do not know the answer to that,” Delenn replied with a slight frown. “All I know is that they must, and they will. Make no mistake...Jeff...this is not something they will be forced into. It will be their choice, and they will come because of you. Because of the cause we are fighting for.”_

_“I still don't know what that is,” Sinclair reminded her._

_“Then perhaps, dear friend, you should go to Minbar to find out.”_

_“Perhaps I should. I assume you have a reason for my absence?”_

_“Minbari do not lie except to help another save face,” Delenn told him sternly._

_Sinclair smiled. “Fine by me, I'll just tell Captain Sheridan the truth.”_

_“That will not be necessary, Captain. I will tell him...a version of the truth.”_

_Sinclair raised his eyebrows but wisely said nothing more._

It wasn't even that he minded the role which had been thrust upon him, if the truth was told. If he had been chosen, then there had to be a reason for it, and like much in his life, he would accept it and carry out the task with diligence and sincerity. But a part of him still wanted to know why he had been chosen; the same part of him felt there was more to the whole 'sharing souls' concept than the Minbari were letting on. But Sinclair supposed that in time, the truth would reveal itself. Instead, he turned his thoughts to Babylon 5, finding comfort in the station, and wondered what mischief the others had managed to get themselves into during the short time he had been gone.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Though she would never have actually said anything, a flicker of doubt crossed Ivanova's mind as Garibaldi opened the door to the ship, and she started to question the wisdom of their judgement. She knew there was no point in trying to reason with him or Sheridan; both looked like kids let loose in a candy store. She glanced back at Franklin, hoping he might be the sensible one, but the expression on her face told her differently and as she turned back, she understood why. He was out of med lab, for a change, and they had made an effort to include him. Of course he was happy. And it wasn't that she wasn't happy, she just had a bad feeling about it all.

And she knew Sinclair would be pissed as hell when he found out.

Ivanova hadn't really expected to hear from him, and though she knew there was more to the trip than he had admitted, she had a bad feeling about that too. After all, the last time Sinclair left, she never expected him to return. And now she was being as reckless as she had always accused him of being. She was never going to hear the end of it.

Inside the ship they found two cryo units, one of which contained a very dead body, which gave Ivanova the shivers. The second, though, had a young woman inside, who seemed alive but Sheridan stopped Franklin from opening the unit in case they put her life in jeopardy.

Then her vitals began to drop.

Franklin, all business now someone was in danger, opened the unit, and Ivanova went cold all over. The only way she could describe it was as a presence; something had come out of that cryo unit and onto the ship...and the station. She not only felt it ghosting over her skin, but whispering in her mind too. She didn't just feel it; she _sensed_ it, with every fibre of her being.

“Hey.”

Ivanova jumped and turned at the same time, physically stopping herself from punching her superior officer. “Captain!”

Sheridan looked both surprised and guilty. “Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.” He looked at her more closely. “You okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” she replied, nodding.

He didn't believe her for a second, but knew better than to push. “Dr Franklin has taken the patient to med lab, he's going to keep us informed on her condition,” he told her, aware she hadn't taken any notice on what had happened in the last few moments. “Mr Garibaldi is doing...whatever it is that Mr Garibaldi does. And I have to go and do my job now.” He smiled. “I could use someone here on the Copernicus trying to figure out how it ended up off course, and how he died.” He jerked his thumb at the seal cryo unit.

“And that someone would be me, sir?” Ivanova asked.

“Unless you have plans.”

“No, sir.”

There was something about her demeanour that Sheridan couldn't quite put his finger on. “Thank you, Commander.” He turned and walked away, pausing at the ship's doorway. “He'll be back before you know it,” he said with a smile.

Ivanova looked at him, startled, and he wondered if he had read her wrong. “I know,” he replied.

It was only after he left that she allowed her face to crumple somewhat. Sheridan hadn't been wrong; he had been extremely right, for a change. For the most part. The other small part had nothing to do with Sinclair and everything to do with the Copernicus. Ivanova could never tell the Captain, but it was like they had invited death on board Babylon 5.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Damn lurkers, we outta space them all.”

As Garibaldi's attention shifted from Amis to the security officer, he had an epiphany regarding himself and it wasn't all that pleasant. He tried not to dress the officer down for his comments; he knew that opinion was held by more than a few on the station. After all, he used to have the same thoughts. They talked about the war, briefly, then old memories began to plague Garibaldi and he left the brig somewhat abruptly, striding down the corridor until he reached the safety of his office. Sinking into his chair, he held his head in his hands for a few moments.

Only last year he had wanted to clear out Downbelow himself, spacing all the lurkers as he felt they were the root of many of B5's problems. He remembered how Sinclair had shot him down pretty hard, remembered how his friend's words had stung him, how the rebuke was like was physical slap in the face. He remembered though how vehemently – and silently – he had disagreed with Sinclair's view, yet now he was defending it.

Garibaldi sat back in his chair and stretched his legs out in front, his arms behind his head. He had always believed he wasn't capable of much change, but obviously he was wrong. And he knew Sinclair was a big part of that. Sighing, Garibaldi wished his friend was there at that moment; even thinking about the war still gave him cold sweats and a desperate wish for a drink, and he longed to talk to Sinclair about it, as he had done countless times before, just to make the craving go away. It always amused him in some way that despite Sinclair's greater involvement in the war, he seemed much more 'together' than Garibaldi. Of course, the security chief had seen his friend come undone on several occasions, but generally, it was Sinclair doing the listening and comforting. But then that was the same generally. Garibaldi didn't know what it was about the man, but he certainly had a presence about him, and not just because he had part of a Minbari soul...which the security chief still couldn't decide if he believed or not.

Abruptly, he laughed. His problem was he was actually missing Sinclair, and he realised just how much his old friend was like glue holding everything together, and he realised as well how Ivanova must have felt while he was in a coma and Sinclair was on Earth. He hadn't really thought about it before, but now it hit him, and he made a point to talk to her about it when he could. Not that he could change anything now, but for some reason it was important to him that she knew he understood.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

As Sinclair stepped off the transport on Minbar, he wasn't sure what he expected to feel, but he was certain it should have been something – trepidation, curiosity, frustration – instead of nothing. He didn't even feel particularly calm, or even numb, just...detached, from everything and everybody. He quickly decided it wasn't a feeling he enjoyed, either.

“Captain Sinclair, welcome back.”

He turned to see a Minbari of the religious caste bowing to him. “Rathenn,” he replied in greeting, recalling the name with ease.

Rathenn, however, seemed quite pleased. “I have been asked to show you to your rooms and to provide...guidance for you.”

“You mean instruction.”

“If it had been instruction, I would have said so,” Rathenn assured him. “Here, you are the leader, yet there are certain...customs which must be observed which you may not be aware of.”

Sinclair inclined his head. “I thank you for your assistance.”

“And there is a request for you to change your attire as well.”

“I thought there might be.”

Rathenn studied him with polite interest. “I understand it was a long journey from Babylon 5. Perhaps you would like some time to rest?”

Sinclair studied him right back. “They're already here, aren't they? Waiting for me.”

“Word of what is to come has spread quickly. Many are eager to train for...the task ahead, and with one such as yourself.”

“You seem to have a great deal of faith in me, Rathenn,” Sinclair said. “I still don't believe that I'm the one you're looking for.”

“If you are not, then why are you here?” Rathenn asked.

Sinclair sighed. “If you can give me enough time to freshen up and change, then show me where the training grounds are, I would appreciate it.”

“Of course, Captain. This way.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova paused outside the Captains' office to gather herself. She was pretty certain of what had happened to the body in the cryo unit, and possibly what had happened to the ship; explaining all of that to Sheridan wasn't the problem. No, the problem was the 'presence' which she had sensed again while beating the crap out of the consoles on the Copernicus to try and coax them into life. If Sinclair was there, she wouldn't hesitate before sharing her thoughts with him, but he wasn't there. Sheridan was, and he wasn't Sinclair, and she didn't know whether he would believe her or commit her.

Finally feeling ready, Ivanova entered the room, only to stop again at the sight of Sheridan hunched over the desk, working studiously on paperwork. For the first time since his arrival, he actually looked at home where he was, doing what he was doing, and she wondered how much of that was down to the truce between him and Sinclair.

“Captain,” she said quietly, not wanting to startle him.

Sheridan looked up and smiled. “Commander. Find anything?” he asked, gesturing to the seat opposite.

“A lack of something.”

Sheridan nodded. “Tell me.” He bent his head to his work. “Don't mind me, I need to get this finished, but I am listening.”

“I ran a general diagnostic of all the systems that still appear to be operating,” she told him. “Considering what the ship has been through, it is in surprisingly good working order. Anyway, I checked the cryo units for any sign of malfunction or anything which may have caused his death.”

The Captain looked up now, interested. “And?”

“Nothing,” Ivanova said. “According to the system, there was nothing wrong at all. He should be alive now.”

“You double checked?”

“Three times.” Ivanova held his gaze. “Something – or someone – murdered him.”

Sheridan dropped the pen on the desk and sat back in his chair, lacing his fingers together. “You said 'something murdered him'.”

“I said 'something or someone'.”

“True, but you put 'something' first. Is there something you're not telling me, Commander?”

Ivanova stared at him for a moment, hoping her face didn't betray her emotions. “No, Captain. I'm just covering all possibilities. After all, the woman was in cryostasis in the other unit, it would have been difficult for her to be involved in this.”

“But not impossible is what you're saying,” Sheridan said.

“I'm not saying anything. I leave those sorts of judgements to Mr Garibaldi.”

The Captain's link beeped. “Sheridan, go.”

_“Captain, Dr Franklin wants to see us in med lab,”_ Garibaldi said.

“I'll be right there.” He looked at Ivanova and smiled. “Speak of the devil.”

Ivanova stood. “If you'll excuse me, Captain.”

“Of course. Oh, Commander.”

“Yes?”

“Do you know anything about this...mission Sinclair has gone on?”

Sheridan's tone was casual, but she could tell the curiosity was eating him alive. “No, sir,” Ivanova replied honestly.

“Would you tell me if you did?”

There was something about the question that put Ivanova's back up; it was a probing question for sure, but seemed much deeper than it should have been. The last thing the station wanted or needed was divided loyalties between its senior staff, though she knew whose side she would be stood at it should it go that way. But it brought back a distant thought from when Sheridan first arrived on the station, the burning question that had dimmed but not disappeared; why exactly was he there? The President's reasoning had been flimsy at best; something else was going on.

“If you have to question my loyalty, sir, then perhaps you should find a new EO,” she told him stiffly.

Sheridan held his hands up in surrender. “You're right, that was out of order.” He dropped them to his sides. “I'll let you know if we find anything.”

Ivanova inclined her head and strode out, both of them aware that she never actually answered his question.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“So, what do you think killed him?” Sheridan asked Garibaldi as they walked out of med lab.

The security chief pulled a face like he always did when he had an idea but didn't want to share it. “I don't know. I mean, there was no one else on board....”

“What about the woman?”

“Who was in the other cryo unit.”

“Still. I thought she would have been first on your list,” Sheridan said.

“Oh believe me, she is,” Garibaldi replied. “But in case you haven't noticed, Dr Franklin seems particularly protective of her and I'd prefer not to upset him in any way if I can help it. I'd rather rule out other possibilities first, until we're left with the truth.”

“Which is...?”

“When I find it, Captain, I'll let you know.”

Sheridan grunted. “Speaking of which, I don't suppose you know where Captain Sinclair is, do you?”

Garibaldi stopped in the middle of the corridor and looked at the Captain with wide eyes. “He's helping the Minbari, unless you know something I don't.”

“Yes, that's what he told me – and what Ambassador Delenn said as well – do you know _where_ he is?”

The security chief shrugged. “Minbar, I guess.”

“But you don't know.”

Garibaldi frowned. “Is there a problem, Captain?”

“Captain Sinclair leaves suddenly to aid the Minbari in some mysterious mission,” Sheridan said. “Don't tell me that doesn't make you of all people suspicious, Mr Garibaldi?”

It did; he wouldn't be much of a security officer if it didn't. But he also trusted Sinclair more than any other person he knew, which meant if there was another reason for his absence, he had good reason for keeping it quiet. “Let's say for a moment that I am; what could Captain Sinclair possibly be doing that was so secretive?”

“My point exactly.”

“No disrespect, sir, but he wouldn't be the one I'd worry about for keeping secrets.”

Sheridan stared hard at him. “And what is that supposed to mean, Mr Garibaldi?”

Garibaldi put his hands in his pockets and just shrugged. “I'm just saying that out of everyone on this station, if Sinclair says he's going somewhere and gives a reason, that's what I'm inclined to believe. Especially if Ambassador Delenn backs him up. You know Minbari don't lie....”

“Except to protect another Minbari, I know.” Sheridan sighed. “And it's not that I don't believe her, it's just.... Dammit, I don't like being kept in the dark!”

Which was a particularly ironic statement given the real reason for his positioning on Babylon 5 and while he thoroughly hated being a hypocrite, for the time being Sheridan had no choice.

“Well, you can ask him about it when he gets back,” Garibaldi suggested. “But you'd have more luck getting Londo and G'Kar to play nicely with each other.”

Sheridan nodded in agreement. “I'm getting that feeling, Mr Garibaldi. I'm getting that feeling.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair stretched his long frame out on the bed, listening to the stillness outside and allowing the natural calm of Minbar to wash over him. He ached in places he never knew existed, his body tired from the exertions of the day, yet there was a satisfaction in his mind as well. He had expected some resistance from those gathered, some hostility to his presence there, some objection to him wearing robes that had previously only been reserved for Minbari. Yet if there was any negativity, he couldn't detect it. They had followed his orders without question, had been patient as he too learnt his way around, and finally, when they had finished, they had honoured him with sincere reverence. It was all very strange to him, and yet it felt so right.

There was a knock on the door and Sinclair groaned as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and forced himself into a seating position. “Yes.”

Rathenn entered carrying a tray. “I thought you might prefer to eat in here,” he said mildly, though respectfully.

Sinclair smiled at him. “That is very thoughtful of you, Rathenn, thank you.” He stood and winced a little. “Tell me...how did the training go today?”

Rathenn stood quietly for a moment, contemplating his answer. “If you are looking for praise, I am unworthy to give it. But there is no dissatisfaction from anyone...not even Ambassador Delenn.”

“I'm glad.”

“What time should I inform the others to be at the training ground in the morning?”

“Early. The earlier the better,” Sinclair said somewhat grimly. “We have a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it in.”

Rathenn bowed. “As you wish...Entil'zha.”

Once alone, Sinclair ate slowly, savouring his meal and the atmosphere. He felt extremely at peace, almost serene, yet there was something that cast a shadow over everything; the fact that Ivanova wasn't with him. He longed to contact her, just to hear her voice, but decided against it. He wasn't sure if some crisis had come up in his absence, and with the time difference as well....

He sighed and stared out into the twilight, wondering if she was still mad at him.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova sat in the Zocalo nursing her drink, completely unaware that the area around her was devoid of people despite the market being extremely busy. Her thoughts were a jumbled mess of Sheridan's sudden – seeming – mistrust of her, of Sinclair's absence, and of the unshakable feeling that something had come onboard the station. And she had heard mutterings of Franklin's particular attachment to his patient, which she was sure wouldn't move beyond professional, but still, she worried about him.

“Either we've developed a black hole in the station, or you're scaring the locals.”

Ivanova looked around in mild astonishment, her eyes falling on Garibaldi, who looked both teasing and concerned. She was tempted to keep up her stoic facade, but decided it just wasn't worth it. “I had a...disagreement with the Captain.”

Garibaldi's eyebrows shot up as he slid onto the stool next to her, then lowered as he said, “If you don't mind me asking...which one?”

“Sheridan,” Ivanova replied.

Understanding dawned on the security chief. “Let me guess, he asked you about the mission Jeff's disappeared on.”

“So you've been through this as well.”

He nodded. “And I'm betting you gave him the same answer I did.”

“Which is that I know nothing,” Ivanova said with a smile, starting to relax in the company of her friend. But then she eyed him curiously, good-naturedly. “Aren't you the least bit curious what he's doing?”

“Nope. Not this time. After learning what we did about us sharing souls with the Minbari, most people would figure that was why Jeff was chosen to run B5, but me, I think they're still paying pretty special interest to him. But you know what? Maybe that's a good thing.”

Ivanova stared at him, aghast but unable to keep the amusement from her tone. “Mr Garibaldi, is this optimism I'm hearing from you? I'm very disappointed.”

Garibaldi took her teasing with a shrug. “After almost dying, I decided to take a different outlook on life. Call it my new leaf,” he said with a grin.

She wasn't fooled. “And how long will it last?”

“Probably until the next time I have to deal with Londo or G'Kar,” he replied. “So, what did you argue with Jeff about?”

“How did you...?”

“Please, Ivanova, I'm not head of security for nothing. You could've easily said 'Sheridan' when I asked what was wrong, instead of saying 'the Captain'. So, give.”

“We didn't argue, he just...left.” Ivanova shrugged. “It'll be fine once he gets back.”

Garibaldi was shrewd enough not to add 'if' to that , and wise enough to ignore the undercurrent of affection from Ivanova towards Sinclair. Instead, he just bumped her shoulder and said, “Hey, let me buy you dinner. You know, while it's quiet and before the next Apocalyptic event takes place.”

Ivanova smiled warmly at him. “Thanks, Michael, but I'll take a rain check for today. Another time, though, for sure.”

“I'll hold you to it.” He watched her go, then ordered some food, ignoring the Drazi who sat next to him, even when his dinner started inching its way towards Garibaldi.

“You're all going to die!!”

Garibaldi closed his eyes briefly. “Oh boy.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova hadn't gotten very far when she realised where her feet were taking her. Sinclair's quarters. She hadn't let herself drift like this for a couple of months now...since the last time he left. She stopped and closed her eyes, refusing to think about that. He _would_ come back, and things would be fine.

“Commander...are you alright?”

Ivanova turned to see Delenn stood close by, concern etched on her face. “Yes, Ambassador, thank you.”

Delenn regarded the young human for a few moments, then stepped forward and placed her hand on her arm. “He will return to you, to this station. And soon. I promise.”

The Commander opened her mouth to say something, but then felt a warm sensation envelope her mind, and she realised it was, unconsciously, coming from the woman beside her. “I know. Thank you, Ambassador.”

“Sometimes, we just need a change in perspective. Or a friend,” Delenn replied with a warm smile.

Ivanova smiled back. “Or both.” Then her link sounded. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be. Good day, Commander.”

“Good day, Ambassador.” She lifted her link to her mouth. “Ivanova.”

_“I need you in the council chambers,”_ Sheridan said.

“On my way,” Ivanova replied, turning on her heel and wondering what development there had been. Instead, she found Sheridan in his dress uniform, hands clasped behind his back, pacing the length of the room. She waited in the doorway, until he had turned around at the other side and seen her. “Is there a problem, sir?”

“The League have asked for a council meeting to...discuss whether something really did come on board this station from the Copernicus,” Sheridan told her, not moving now. “But...Ambassadors Delenn and Kosh have declined to join the meeting.”

“What about Londo and G'Kar?” Ivanova asked.

“Oh, they'll be here.”

“That should make things go more smoothly,” she replied dryly. “Anything else?”

Sheridan took a breath and strode towards her, stopping within reasonable distance but not too close. “I was out of line earlier. You're a good officer, Ivanova; I wouldn't have recommended your promotion to Commander if I thought otherwise. And I know you'll always do what's best for this station and Earthforce,” he said. Ivanova noted that still didn't cover the point of whether she would tell him or not if Sinclair was 'up to something'. “It's just... I thought Sinclair and I had reached an understanding, and now...this. I don't like being kept in the dark.”

“I'm sure it's nothing, sir,” Ivanova replied, in a tone that meant 'apology accepted'. “Anything else?”

“Actually, there was. I want you to stand in on this meeting.”

“Captain?”

Sheridan smiled at her then. “One more rung on the ladder of diplomacy, Commander. Besides, you can also give Sinclair true account of what happens here in case he thinks my report isn't...accurate.”

Ivanova raised her eyebrows at him. “Alright. Do I have time to change?” They both turned at the sound of the ambassadors starting to file in. “I'll take that as a no. I'll just stand her and be quiet.”

“That'll be a first,” Sheridan muttered under his breath.

What followed wasn't so much a meeting as it was the League races baring their teeth, with G'Kar siding with them and Londo treating it all as a joke. When he all but ordered Sheridan to find whatever had come on board the station and kill it, she could see the Captain bristling further, as he had already been threatened, in a roundabout way, by the Markhab ambassador.

“Very smooth,” Ivanova couldn't help but remark when the meeting was over and Sheridan came to stand next to her.

He looked at her and raised his eyebrows. “That bad?”

Ivanova smiled at him, but then her expression became serious. “What if something did get on board the Copernicus when it passed that moon?” she asked, her voice not as stable as she would have liked.

Sheridan continued to look at her. He was absolutely certain she was hiding something, but what, he couldn't tell. “A soldier of darkness?” he asked sceptically. Ivanova shrugged. “I'll believe it when I see it.”

Ivanova smiled tightly at him. “Let's hope we don't get the chance.”

“Ivanova, let me ask you a question,” Sheridan said as they walked off together. “And I want an honest answer.”

“Sir?”

“Did the ambassadors and the council ever run roughshod over Sinclair like they're doing with me?”

Ivanova was silent for a moment as she found the right words. “I don't think so, but I was never involved in the meetings. But from what I saw of his dealings with the ambassadors and the other race members outside of the council room...no, sir. They didn't.”

“What is it about me?” he mused.

“If another Captain had been assigned to the Agamemnon, would you honestly have expected the crew to show them the same...courtesies?” she asked.

“The loyalty....”

“I'm not talking about loyalty, sir,” Ivanova cut across him quickly. “I'm talking about courtesy. Two completely different things.”

Sheridan looked like he'd swallow an asteroid, the muscles in his jaw working furiously, but eventually he sighed and deflated a little. “I guess not. Not at first, anyway.”

“Exactly. Just give them time. Give everybody time to get used to your presence and your ways...and to trust you.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

And suddenly, without warning, it was over. The task Sinclair had been quietly dreading had actually turned out to be quite enjoyable, and he found as he changed back into his uniform that he was going to miss his robes. In fact, he was going to miss Minbar, as ironic as that sounded. He started to understand how Delenn must feel being so far away from home. He missed Earth and Mars, but Minbar was different. With regret, he folded his robes neatly and laid them on the bed.

“Excuse me, Entil'zha.”

Sinclair turned immediately, also amazed at how quickly he had gotten used to that title in such a short space of time. Delenn had been right, as usual – although he did not want the responsibility, he trusted that it had been given to him for a reason, and now, after spending time with the group, training and meditating with them, he felt ready to take on leadership fully.

“Yes, Rathenn?”

“Your ship is waiting, Entil'zha.”

“Thank you.” Sinclair noticed the Minbari was hesitating. “Is there something else?”

“Yes, Entil'zha. I was...asked to inform you that the box you took back to Babylon 5 with you....” Rathenn paused, trying to find the right words. “I was told to inform you that now is the time to open it. Whatever it contains, you will need it.”

Sinclair already knew that asking any questions of the Minbari would be futile; he only knew what he was told to pass on. So instead he simply nodded. “Thank you, Rathenn. I guess I will see you soon.”

“May Valen go with you...Captain.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Franklin paced up and down in front of the monitor for a few moments before pressing the button. “C&C, put me through to Captain Sheridan.” Seconds later, Sheridan's face appeared. “Captain, it would seem that there is...something onboard the station.”

_“Not you as well,”_ Sheridan said, pulling a face. He was still cranky over the council meeting, even though that had been several hours previously.

Franklin remained undeterred. “Mariah said that...in her dreams, there's something in the life tube with her, using her to stay alive...until it could find more food. Captain...I think we have a serious problem.”

Sheridan's face hardened. _“Doctor, you stay in med lab and you don't let her out of your sight, understood?”_

“Yes, sir.”

And then the communication was cut. Franklin shouldn't have been surprised but he was. He thought the Captain might have at least acknowledged that he had taken him seriously; now he was worried Sheridan might just dismiss it.

“Franklin to Garibaldi.”

_“Make it quick, Doc, I'm kinda busy,”_ Garibaldi replied. Franklin quickly recapped what he had told Sheridan. _“What did he say?”_

“He told me to stay here and watch Mariah.”

_“That it?”_

“That's it.” Franklin took a breath. “Michael, I believe her. And I know what you're thinking....”

Garibaldi quickly interrupted him. _“Oh, believe me, Doc, right now I believe her too.”_ And he quickly told him about Amis. _“I'm on my way to see Sheridan and Ivanova now.”_

“Good luck.”

Garibaldi stabbed his link and quickened his pace. Sheridan he knew would be in the Captains' office, but Ivanova was another matter; of course he was planning to include her in the meeting, but that would go a lot easier if she actually knew there was a meeting involved.

“Garibaldi to Ivanova.”

_“Ivanova here.”_

“Meet me in the briefing room, five minutes,” he said, not bothering with any explanation and knowing he didn't need to.

Sheridan didn't look impressed with the interruption of the security chief striding into his office, especially when Garibaldi was followed so closely by Ivanova. And although he listened to what he was being told about Amis and the attack on the listening post, and the possibility of a creature being on the station, he couldn't bring himself to believe it. But it was clear his officers did.

“Maybe Mariah can help us find this thing,” Garibaldi was suggesting.

Ivanova was shaking her head. “It's too risky,” she said, the concern evident in her voice, though for what exactly was less clear. She stood up and walked towards Sheridan. “Whatever's onboard the station came from her ship. If the lurker's right and there is a symbiotic relationship, who knows what kind of influence it might have over her? She could be scouting for it without knowing what she's doing.”

Sheridan opened his mouth to speak, but it was a different voice they heard. “What are we going to do about it then?”

Everyone turned to see Sinclair stood in the doorway quite calmly, hands in his pockets like he'd just been for a stroll, not spent a few days off the station on an alien world with no one knowing exactly what he had been doing.

Sheridan's eyes narrowed of their own accord at the same time his mouth set into a grim line and his face hardened. “We don't know there is anything on the station yet,” he replied stubbornly. “But _if_ whatever happened on the listening post is happening here, we won't have to go looking for it, it'll find us. Just let's make sure we're ready for it.” Without another word, he strode from the office, brushing aggressively past Sinclair without a word.

Sinclair watched his retreating back, then turned to the others. “And I didn't even mention how reckless it was for the entire senior staff to enter a ship we knew nothing about,” he said mildly.

Garibaldi groaned at Ivanova's elbow. “I just _knew_ those would be the first words out of his mouth,” he said, looking sideways at her. “Do you think now would be a good time to remind him of all the times he's acted recklessly?”

“No, because I never actually said it was reckless,” Sinclair pointed out. “I simply said that I didn't mention that fact.”

Garibaldi scowled at him. “You're not going back to Minbar ever if you come back talking like that.” He glanced at Ivanova, who had yet to say something, and then back to Sinclair, understanding the silence all of a sudden. “I'm going to check on a couple of things. I'll link in later.”

Once they were alone, Ivanova didn't have to think about her actions; she strode purposefully over to Sinclair, who steeled himself for an inevitable slap and was surprised when she threw her arms around him instead.

“I'm sorry,” she murmured.

“I've missed you,” he said simultaneously.

They separated after a few moments, and spoke at the same time. “So you're not mad at me?”

Sinclair chuckled. “I'll take that as a 'no'.”

Ivanova shook her head. “I was just worried, and I know the way I acted was stupid....”

He put his fingers under her chin and gently tilted her head up to look at him properly. “It was understandable and it's done with now. Don't worry about it any more.” And then he leant down and kissed her. She responded, but hesitantly, and slowly he pulled away. “What is it, Susan?”

“There _is_ something on this station, Jeff, I can...I can _sense_ it,” Ivanova said quietly. “Sheridan is...sceptical, he doesn't want to believe, but....”

“You can sense it?” Sinclair repeated carefully.

She looked at him with an open expression, yet her eyes were guarded. “You're not the only one who is keeping secrets,” she replied, her voice shaking slightly.

Sinclair wrapped his arms around her and held her closely to him. “It's fine, Susan. You know I won't pry.” He kissed the top of her head gently. “This...thing...is it dangerous?”

Ivanova nodded into his chest. “G'Kar called it a 'soldier of darkness'.”

“G'Kar is aware of it as well?”

She nodded again. “But no one believes him.”

“Hmm.” Reluctantly, Sinclair pulled back. “As much as I would like to stay like this, it seems we have an unwanted being on the station and I for one would like to get it off the station before it causes any more trouble.”

“I agree. Garibaldi said a lurker named Amis could...feel it, track it.”

“And the woman from the ship?”

“It's possible she could do the same,” Ivanova replied, instantly seeing where he was going with his train of thought.

Sinclair nodded, pleased. “I'll contact Garibaldi.”

“There is one other thing,” Ivanova said hesitantly. “It's about Stephen.”

Sinclair almost resisted the urge to roll his eyes; almost, but not quite. “Go on.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan was pacing in the Zen garden, attempting to get his anger under control. Although it felt justified on some level, he knew in reality he was being the childish one now. He stopped and sighed. He just didn't like that he was treated as some...subordinate where Sinclair was concerned, and he also didn't like how close he and Delenn seemed to be. Involuntarily, Sheridan's head snapped up, his eyes focusing forward. Since when did the interaction of two people bother him so much? And it wasn't Sinclair that was the problem...it was Delenn; he didn't like that the other Captain enjoyed such easy familiarity with her.

Before he could analyse his thoughts and feelings too closely, Sheridan heard footsteps approaching the garden and turned expectantly, though as soon as he saw who was entering, he should have realised it wasn't who he hoped it would be.

“Captain,” Sinclair greeted him.

“Captain,” Sheridan replied.

“It seems we have a problem.”

“If it's about the ship....”

“It's about us,” Sinclair cut across him. “Well, right now it's about you. You're angry about something, and it seems to be directed at me, so I'd appreciate it if you'd clue me in.”

“You sound like Garibaldi,” Sheridan replied.

Sinclair just smiled. “We have known each other a while.”

Sheridan fixed him with a cold stare. “I don't like being kept in the dark,” he said through gritted teeth. But the words tasted like ash in his mouth, made him feel like someone he wasn't.

“I sorry,” Sinclair told him truthfully. “But you know how diplomacy is. If you really want an answer, I suggest you take it up with Ambassador Delenn. Good luck with that.” He stepped closer. “But right now we have more urgent matters to discuss. There's something on this station, Sheridan, you know it as well as I do, you just don't want to admit it. But it's here, whatever 'it' is. And we need to find it.”

“What do you have in mind?” Sheridan asked grudgingly.

“Garibaldi thinks that Mariah can...track it, so that's what he's going to do. I'm going to go with him, but we'll need back up at a moment's notice. You, Ivanova and a security team.”

The younger Captain's eyes widened slightly. “Both of us? And here I was thinking you'd give us all hell for going onto the Copernicus in the first place.”

Sinclair smiled. “I thought about it,” he admitted. “But my own recklessness has already been pointed out to me, so I decided it would hypercritical of me to say anything.”

“It was stupid,” Sheridan said ruefully.

“Doesn't feel like it at the time, though, does it?”

Finally a smiled graced his face. “No. No, it doesn't.” He put his hands in his pockets. “We'll wait for your signal in C&C?”

“I'll save some of the action for you.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Although Ivanova was happy to be involved in the search for this creature, she desperately wished it was Sinclair ahead of her, not Sheridan. Not for any personal reasons at all; for once, it was strictly professional, because Sheridan's hand signals were...well, 'sloppy' at best. At worst...she honestly couldn't say without risking being court-marshalled. They came across Franklin and Mariah at an intersection, and learnt that Garibaldi and Sinclair had gone back in, presumably to look for Amis.

Ivanova would have loved to know what Sinclair had said to Sheridan because suddenly the younger Captain was taking the situation very seriously, and that annoyed her. Why hadn't he listened to her? Ugly thoughts started to appear in her mind and she firmly pushed them away. It was nothing personal, she kept telling herself, but that did nothing to quell the nasty feeling in the pit of her stomach, the feeling that something was...'off'.

“I hope someone has a plan,” Ivanova muttered, mostly to herself, but an answer would have been nice. When none was forthcoming, she decided to ask directly. “Does Captain Sinclair have a plan? Do _you_?” She stared at Sheridan, who refused to meet her gaze.

“Try not to get killed.”

“Brilliant,” she said sarcastically as Sheridan ordered them to split up. Ivanova moved off to the right, wondering where Sinclair and Garibaldi where and if they were okay; she still hadn't forgotten that gunfire and a partial message from the security chief had drawn them down here.

And then suddenly, seemingly only minutes later, her link went. _“Have you got a fix on our location?”_ Sheridan asked, his voice terse.

“Affirmative, we're on our way,” Ivanova said already moving.

_“Negative, triangulate your fire and stand by. I want to set up a kill zone, point blank.”_

Ivanova opened her mouth to protest when she heard Sinclair's voice cut in over the comm link. _“Have Ivanova and the rest of security meet us here,”_ he was insisting. _“The creature is here and if we try to lure it away, we could lose it.”_

_“I'm well aware of that, Captain, and I've already made the call.”_

_“It should be a joint decision, Sheridan,”_ Sinclair said in exasperation. _“And we're wasting time arguing about this.”_

Ivanova had heard enough. Turning her head, she glanced at the security guards nearby. “Follow me. Link in with the others, have them meet us along the way.”

Despite Sheridan's orders, Ivanova agreed with Sinclair and it seemed she was right because as she entered the staging area, the creature had Amis suspended in mid-air and was trying to kill him, while Garibaldi and Sheridan were just stood looking on, their expressions bordering on dumb. Sinclair was dusting himself off – Ivanova had no idea how he ended up on the floor, though she would be certain to get the answer later – and was looking angrily at the other Captain and the security chief.

“Open fire!” he shouted, bringing his PPG to bear on the creature. The others followed suit and after a few seconds, as if coming out of a trance, Sheridan and Garibaldi joined in.

The air become hot and charged with energy, a metallic smell filling the small space, then suddenly the creature shrieked and the space it occupied seemed to twist and rend, and then it was gone, just like that. The officers rushed forward to help Amis, Ivanova rubbing his shoulder and back while Garibaldi sat at his other side. Sinclair stood guard, just in case, but looked on in warm approval of Ivanova's caring side showing through. But when he lifted his head, he found Sheridan glaring at him.

“You countermanded my orders.”

Sinclair sighed. “Sheridan, we're equals. I made a different judgement call, and it worked. Next time it might not, and then you can say 'I told you so.'”

“Like you're going to do now?” Sheridan asked, cranky again for no reason at all.

But instead of rising to the bait, Sinclair shook his head. “That's not my style,” he replied, walking away.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“I thought I might find you here.”

Sinclair turned and smiled. “Am I that obvious?”

Ivanova came to stand next to him. “Honestly, sir? Yes, you are. Sometimes.”

“How is Amis?”

“I think he'll be fine, Dr Franklin is taking good care of him.”

“And Mariah?”

“Heading back to Earth.”

Sinclair nodded. “And Sheridan?”

“Still cranky,” Ivanova admitted. “But I think he's annoyed at himself, for some reason.”

“He'll come around,” Sinclair said with a smile. “Do you have something?”

She nodded. “That's why I went to see him. We just finished the analysis of the Copernicus' database. Everything Mariah told us was true....”

“But,” he interrupted, his eyes twinkling.

“ _But_ it seems the Copernicus lost ten percent of its oxygen when it passed by a moon, probably caused when the creature came aboard. And when it left that sector, the ship was on a new heading.”

Something cold seemed to touched Sinclair on the back of his neck, making the hair there rise. “Where was it heading?” he asked quietly.

Ivanova sensed his discomfort and moved closer, until she was stood flush with him. “The rim, to the exact place where Ambassador G'Kar told us an ancient enemy was gathering its forces.”

“Za'ha'dum,” Sinclair replied, unable to fully repress a shudder, and Ivanova noted that Sheridan had reacted almost the same way when she had told him.

“Captain...Jeff, I don't think it's a coincidence. Something's going on, and between you and me...it's scaring the hell out of me,” she admitted.

Sinclair put his arm around her shoulders. “You know what? Me too.”

TBC


	31. 206 A Spider in the Web

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Format might be a little different with this chapter and the ones to follow as I've used episode synopses from the internet instead of making notes myself on the episodes, simply because I don't have time to do that any more, and if I try to, I'll end up abandoning this story, which I don't want to do. So if the quality isn't as good as it has been I apologize but hopefully it'll do. :)
> 
> Also, this chapter is a bit more Sinclair and Sheridan, and less Sinclair/Ivanova. Also some more Sheridan bashing, because it's fun. It won't last, though. ;)

_March 2259_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair walked slowly down the corridors towards the office, trying to find a solution to a problem that wouldn't be so easy to solve. He thought that he and Sheridan had worked out their differences, especially after the incident with the Cortez, but over the last couple of weeks, especially since Sinclair had been summoned to Minbar, Sheridan had been acting cranky, and while he could understand the younger Captain's attitude, there was something about the whole thing that just didn't sit right with Sinclair. But he wasn't sure how to solve the problem. He felt he had given Sheridan plenty of opportunities to talk or even rage at him, but the Captain always walked away. He had set off earlier than he had planned that morning, in the hopes of catching Sheridan before he left he office. That was another thing Sinclair had noticed; no matter what time he showed up, the other Captain was always just leaving or had already left the office, so any meetings they were both supposed to attend had already happened or Sheridan missed them, forcing either Ivanova or Garibaldi to relay news to one or other of the Captains. Sinclair was starting to find that irritating, not for himself, but his officers.

“Great,” he muttered to himself as he walked into the office to find it empty once again. “I swear I'm going to use Garibaldi's tactic of locking that man in the brig, along with myself. Maybe then we'll get to the bottom of this.”

“I'll help.”

Sinclair turned to see Ivanova sat on one of the sofas, obscured by the dim light and paperwork. “What did I miss?” he asked as he approached her. But he didn't sit down straight away; instead he waited for an invitation from her, and if she didn't give one, he'd sit opposite her instead of next to her.

She looked up and smiled, then motioned sideways with her head, leaning against him slightly as he settled down. “Sheridan has delegated most of today's tasks to me,” Ivanova said, clearly unhappy and confused by the situation.

“Why? And please don't say it's one more step on the road to learning the fine art of diplomacy.”

“Bingo!”

Sinclair groaned. “What is wrong with that man?”

“Honestly? I don't know. At first, I thought he'd be great here. I thought he'd fit in well with the way we do things on the station, given a little time. But lately...it's like he's taken a step backwards and worse, it's like he enjoys it there.”

“Hmm.” Sinclair turned to look at her, picking something up from the silence. “Anything else?”

Ivanova turned to face him, marvelling at how close they were to each other, and allowed herself to get lost in his features for a while. “How do you do that?” she asked softly.

“Do what?”

“Know when I'm not saying something.”

He smiled and shrugged. “I know you.”

She smiled back. “There's just something about the way Captain Sheridan is that doesn't feel right.”

“I've had the same feeling myself,” Sinclair admitted.

“What are you going to do about it?”

“I honestly have no idea. It's like he's deliberately trying to sabotage things here.”

Ivanova's expression turned serious. “What if he is?”

“Commander?”

“Captain, I'm not making any accusations – not formally, at least – but...what if he's here to bring Babylon 5 down?” she asked. “We made plenty of enemies last year, and there are still those in Earth Gov who would like to see this place...fail.”

“And me,” he supplied, knowing what she almost said but didn't.

Ivanova shrugged a little. “Yes.”

“I've had the same thoughts. But why are you suddenly anti-Sheridan? You were the one encouraging me to give him a chance, and berating me when I didn't.”

“I know, I know, but maybe I was wrong.”

Sinclair reached across and took her hand, gently caressing her knuckles. “Let's give Sheridan the benefit of the doubt before you go reaching for the PPG to shoot yourself with.”

Ivanova laughed. “Yes, sir.”

“I'll talk with him, see if I can find the root of the problem. And if that fails, I'll set Garibaldi on him.”

“That's evil.”

Sinclair grinned. “I know.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan, however, had no intention of being cornered by Sinclair and managed to avoid him at every turn, for quite a few hours. The younger Captain knew he was making trouble for himself but he couldn't help it. He had told Maynard not that long ago that he felt as though he had been beached, and it was true. The lack of contact from Earthdome worried him, but he wasn't about to explain that worry to anyone. Instead he masked it with frustration and irritation, which was all too real but no one was aware of why he was carrying on cranky. He knew it wouldn't take long for things to come to a head, though, and he was starting to make a plan to diffuse any situation that might arise before it exploded. Or at least he hoped to contain any damage from the secrets they were all hiding, and he knew the others _were_ hiding things; everyone had secrets.

He found the office thankfully empty and decided to settle down to some paperwork while he could. He was fairly certain that Sinclair at least would be tied up in minor negotiations for some time yet, and he had to fill out some reports on the progress he was making with the Tikar, a race he had made first contact with, and now he had been appointed to continue diplomatic talks with them.

But mere moments later, the comm channel beeped into life. “Typical,” Sheridan muttered. “Yes?”

_“Captain Sheridan, I'm glad I caught you.”_

“Senator Voudreau,” he greeted the older lady as he stood. “What can I do for you?”

_“Is Captain Sinclair there?”_ she asked, ignoring his question.

“No, but I can....”

_“No, that's fine. I would prefer that this discussion stays between the two of us. It is a delicate matter and I wouldn't want Sinclair's...feelings clouding the issue.”_

Sheridan clasped his hands behind his back and rocked a little on his feet, the only outward signs he was unhappy, not that the senator would pick up on that. “Of course.”

_“Captain, there is a meeting taking place on board Babylon 5 between Taro Isogi, of FutureCorp, and Amanda Carter, a representative of the Mars Provisional Government,”_ Voudreau said.

“Mr Isogi's name is familiar to me,” Sheridan replied. “But Ms Carter....”

The senator cut him off. _“It is irrelevant whether you know them or not, Captain. We suspect that FutureCorp may be planning to finance another armed rebellion on Mars, and as Ms Carter is an outspoken advocate for Martian independence, you can see our concern.”_

Sheridan couldn't but he could see the futility of pointing that out. Instead, he tried to recall some of the diplomacy he had been using with the Tikar. “Senator, there's nothing I can do without proof,” he tried to explain. “My jurisdiction – and Captain Sinclair's – does not include civilian negotiations, which is what this seems to be.”

Voudreau's eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of Sinclair's name, and he could guess why. _“Nonetheless, it does no harm to keep your eyes and ears open, and report anything suspicious to me,”_ she said in a pleasant manner.

Sheridan wasn't fooled for a moment but he played along and smiled back. “Of course, Senator. And I'm not to mention this to Captain Sinclair.” He knew that was the case, but he wanted confirmation.

_“Until we have any solid evidence, I don't think he needs to know.”_

“What about the rest of the senior staff?”

Voudreau's patience started to wear thin and it showed on her face. _“Captain Sheridan, all I'm asking you is to be vigilant. If can't handle that responsibility....”_

He smiled easily. “Just want to be sure I know what I'm doing, Senator. I'll report back if I hear anything. Babylon 5 out.”

As soon as the screen went dark, Sheridan allowed his expression to transform into a scowl and he brought his hands around from his back, balled tightly into fists. He was a soldier and a warrior, a leader. He was a diplomat when he had to be. He was _not_ a spy, and he hated having that role constantly thrust upon him. He turned to his paperwork, his enthusiasm for doing it having disappeared after that conversation, which annoyed him even more. Then he realised there was one person he actually wanted to talk to and with that, he turned on his heel and strode out of the office.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Chief.”

“Captain.”

“What have you found?”

Garibaldi looked carefully at his old friend. “Maybe I should be asking who you _didn't_ find.”

Sinclair smiled. “Are you sure you're not part bloodhound, Mr Garibaldi?”

“Woof. So?”

He sighed. “Sheridan is continuing to be elusive.”

“Want me to track him down?”

“No. If you do that, he'll only feel more persecuted than he seems to do already. It's my responsibility, I'll take care of it.”

“If nothing else works, you can always use the magic trick on him,” Garibaldi suggested.

“Threatening violence against a senior officer is a court marshalling offence,” Sinclair pointed out to him, but not without a smile.

Garibaldi looked chastened. “Yes, sir.” He didn't sound it, though. “So, one of my guys was making a check through the lesser used cargo bays, you know, to make sure we weren't missing anything.” He paused and looked at Sinclair. “You remember Zack Allen?”

“I remember you wanted to hire him.”

“Right. And I did. Anyway, he was down here sweeping the cargo holds when he found this.” Garibaldi pointed to one side.

Sinclair followed the finger and started to frown. “Do we have any idea what was in there?” he asked, pointing to the large container which could almost be described as a cask.

Garibaldi shook his head. “I've asked the Doc to scan it, maybe that'll give us some clues, but whatever it was, there's no trace of it now.”

Sinclair stepped closer, careful not to touch anything. “Are you thinking thing or person?” he asked curiously, knowing how the security chief's mind worked.

His friend smiled. “Well, I would say 'thing' but then why leave the crate here? And if it's a person...well, that's just creepy. And wrong. And creepy. And weird. Did I mention creepy?”

“Twice.” Sinclair straightened. “Alright, Chief, look into it and let me know if you find anything.”

“Will do. You want me to inform Sheridan?”

“No, I'll do it...if I can find him.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova groaned inwardly when she saw Sheridan enter the mess hall and hoped he wouldn't come over to her. Which, of course, was exactly what he did. She tried not to look too put out as the thought of his company, but if the truth was told, she really didn't want to be near him. Not that Sheridan realised, but Ivanova had stuck her neck out for him, defending him on countless occasions to both Sinclair and Garibaldi, and now it looked as though she had been wrong all along. Not that they would make an issue of it – well, Sinclair wouldn't at least – but she had grown to trust her instincts and when they were wrong, it threw her off balance.

“Commander,” Sheridan greeted her.

“Captain,” Ivanova replied in a tone of voice which she hoped conveyed her wish to be alone. He didn't take the hint.

“May I?” he asked, his hand resting on the chair opposite. She simply inclined her head, not trusting herself to speak. “Long day.”

She stared at him. “Negotiations with Tikar?” she asked, and he nodded. “I understand you were the first one to make contact with them.”

Sheridan seemed glad of the opening – or the distraction, she couldn't tell which. He talked animatedly for some time and it made Ivanova even more confused than she already was. This side of the Captain was the one she was most familiar with; his almost boyish enthusiasm was somewhat at odds with his hard-assed military training. His eyes lit up when he spoke and the accompanying hand gestures were very animated.

“Sounds like you were the perfect person for the job,” Ivanova said once he had finished.

His expression darkened a little and he became more serious. “That time, sure.”

She wanted to scream at him and she definitely did _not_ want to have this conversation with him again. “Problem, Captain?”

“I see the way you, Garibaldi, Sinclair and even Franklin are with each other, and I wonder if it'll ever be the same with me,” he admitted.

“It could be,” Ivanova said carefully.

Sheridan looked at her. “Could it? I'm seriously doubting it right now. It's not like I get many opportunities to join in.”

She stared at him in disbelief; was John Sheridan whining like a spoilt child? “With all due respect, sir, you have been given plenty of opportunities, and I know for a fact that Captain Sinclair in particular has been making an effort to make you feel more at home here.” She held a hand up. “And that isn't just loyalty, that's the truth. I've seen him around you. In fact, I'd say you don't want to take the chances being offered to you. And I have to wonder why.”

He almost told her. Almost. But it wasn't the right time, and it definitely wasn't the right place. He had no idea who else might be listening. “Forget it, Commander. I'll leave you to the rest of your lunch.” He stood, aware her eyes never left him. “Was there anything else?”

“I believe Captain Sinclair was looking for you, sir,” she said neutrally.

Sheridan sighed. “Of course he is.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair strode into the office and ignored the other two men present, heading straight for Talia. “Are you alright?” he asked, his deep voice laced with concern.

She nodded, more grateful than she realised to see him. While she knew their relationship would never be anything more than professional, she still harboured a soft spot for Sinclair, a feeling she knew was mutual. It wasn't just physical attraction; he was pleasant company to keep because out of all the non-telepaths she had ever encountered, he seemed most capable of tempering his thoughts and feelings, to the point were she could hardly sense his presence at all, even when he was standing right next to her.

Sinclair released a slow breath. “What happened?” He turned as he said it, directly the question not only at Talia, but Garibaldi as well.

“Taro Isogi and Ms Winters were heading from dinner through Red Sector,” the chief of security explained, and Sinclair realised this was the first time either of the Captains were hearing the story, which made him feel better for some reason. “Ms Winters told security that a man attacked them after declaring 'Free Mars' and killed Isogi.”

The muscles in Sinclair's jaw clenched tightly. “Free Mars? What are they doing here?” he wondered.

“Maybe we can ask Amanda Carter,” Sheridan pointed out, and the older Captain immediately knew his counterpart knew something he wasn't sharing.

Garibaldi frowned as well, but Talia was shaking her head. “I seriously doubt she had anything to do with this, Captain.”

“But she was involved in talks with Mr Isogi,” Sheridan said.

Talia looked uncomfortable. “Yes, but Taro's plan was to help Mars gain its independence in a way that was free of any form of violence. Besides, it wouldn't make sense for Free Mars to kill Taro; he was trying to help them.”

“We'll get to the bottom of this, Talia, I promise,” Sinclair said. “Mr Garibaldi, please escort Ms Winters back to her quarters and make sure she has an armed guard at all times.”

“Will do,” Garibaldi replied, his mouth set in a grim line. “Ms Winters.”

As soon as they were alone, Sinclair turned on Sheridan but the younger Captain spoke first. “I was under orders not to tell you anything.”

“At least you're honest about that. Now, what is it you're not supposed to tell me and why?”

Sheridan pulled a face. “Senator Voudreau asked me to keep my ears and eyes open regarding the negotiations between Isogi and Carter. She said that Earthdome was concerned FutureCorp might be financing another armed rebellion.”

“From what Talia said, it was nothing of the sort,” Sinclair replied. “So you were to spy on them.”

Sheridan started to pace. “I was doing what I was ordered to.”

“It isn't our jurisdiction.”

“You don't ignore a direct order from Earthdome.”

“Chain of command, Sheridan,” Sinclair pointed out quite calmly. “As much as we're ruled by senators, only an officer in the direct chain of command can actually give us an order.”

“Look, it doesn't matter now anyway. The negotiations are dead in the water,” Sheridan replied, seeking to deflect him.

“Why hide it from me in the first place?”

But the younger Captain wasn't to be drawn on that point. “We need to find this man, find out what he's doing here and what he wants.”

“A 'free Mars' by the sounds of it,” Sinclair said in a mild, almost amused tone.

“Sinclair, he's a terrorist,” Sheridan said, trying to keep his cool.

“One man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter.”

“I can't believe you just said that.” Sheridan stopped moving altogether and just stared at the other Captain. “We're not going to have a problem over this...are we?” he asked, his tone bordering on incredulous.

Sinclair held his gaze. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“On how unreasonable you're going to be.”

Sheridan continued to stare incredulously. “On how unreasonable _I'm_ going to be?” he repeated.

Sinclair maintained his composure, unwilling to be drawn into whatever game the other Captain was playing. “Yes. After all, it was you who hid this from me in the first place. Orders or not, that counts as unreasonable.”

“The senator was...,” Sheridan started to say, then cut himself off. “Never mind. Look, right now we need to find this guy. We can work out our differences later.”

“I can hardly wait,” Sinclair murmured dryly.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova slipped into her quarters and let out a shaky sigh as the door fell shut. She just wanted five minutes. Five minutes without being disturbed, five minutes without anyone wanting her attention, without any bickering or complaining.

“Five minutes, is that too much to ask?” she murmured into the darkness. Then suddenly, she froze, becoming aware of another presence in her quarters. “Lights.” Sinclair sat on the sofa looking solemn. “Captain? Is there a problem?”

He shook his head. “Sit with me a while,” he said, opening his arms to her.

Ivanova sat next to him, gratefully leaning against him. “Is everything okay? Did you space Sheridan?”

He laughed, his chest and shoulders shaking her. “No. Not yet, anyway. I just wanted to see you.”

“Why?”

“Do I need a reason?”

“No. Do you have one?”

“Yes.”

Ivanova smiled. “And that is...?”

“I know what today is,” Sinclair said softly, placing a gentle kiss to her head.

She froze for a moment before allowing herself to melt further against him. Of course he remembered the date, and she couldn't quite believe it had been twelve months since she had lost her father. “Thank you.”

“I'm sorry you couldn't take leave.”

Ivanova shook her head. “I don't want any. I grieved last year and though it would be good to see his grave, I don't need too.”

Sinclair nodded in understanding. “You're okay?” he had to ask.

“Sheridan asked me about Ms Winters.”

“And?”

“I said that while she is loyal to the Psi Corps, as an individual, she could be trusted.”

Sinclair hummed his approval. “I'm guessing he was surprised.”

“I suppose so.” Ivanova paused. “He didn't tell me what was going on, though. Not in detail.” As quickly as he could, he explained about the death of Isogi and the possibility of Free Mars being responsible, as well as Sheridan's attempt to keep him out of the loop. “Why?” she asked when he had finished talking.

Sinclair shrugged. “I have no idea. Have you spoken to him today?”

“A while ago,” she replied. “It seems he's having trouble fitting in and he feels like we – meaning the senior staff as a whole – don't give him enough chances to join in.”

“Join in what?”

“Exactly.”

Sinclair shook his head. “I don't know how much longer this can go on for.”

Ivanova pulled away slightly and laid her hand against his cheek. “I know you'll find the answer,” she said, kissing him quickly. “Without spacing him.”

“Are you sure that isn't an option?” he asked, his mouth curving upwards.

She kissed him again. “For now.”

He sighed theatrically. “Alright.” Then he sighed again. “I have to get back on duty.”

Ivanova stood first, pulling him with her. “Thank you.”

Sinclair dipped his head and kissed her one last time. “Any time.” His link beeped and he rolled his eyes. “Sinclair.”

_“Captain, you want to stop by the shop? Got that autopsy report from Dr Franklin,”_ Garibaldi said.

“I'll be there shortly, Chief.” He looked at Ivanova. “Come on.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “I'm supposed to be busy.”

“And this is just as important to your education as whatever errands Sheridan has you running.”

They walked silently and quickly to the security hub, knowing that whatever the autopsy had turned up was important, and when Sheridan saw them walking in together, he positively scowled. “Alright, Mr Garibaldi, now that we're all here...,” he said impatiently.

The security chief just looked at him, unimpressed. “Dr Franklin noted a clear hand print on Isogi's neck, which tracks with what Ms Winters says about the attacker. The report also says that Isogi was hit with a massive electrical charge...via a humanoid hand.”

Everyone spent a quiet moment in surprise. “Like a Slaver's glove?” Sinclair asked eventually.

Sheridan caught a look of recognition on the faces of the other two and was once again reminded of how much they had been through together alright. Garibaldi was shaking his head. “Something a lot more powerful, and way more advanced than anything Free Mars could have.”

“That doesn't rule out their involvement,” Sheridan pointed out.

Before an argument could break out, Ivanova spoke up, a frown creasing her brow. “How something requiring that much energy could have gotten aboard the station undetected?”

“I'm looking into it,” Garibaldi replied, glancing at Sinclair, who nodded almost imperceptibly.

Sheridan thankfully didn't notice the exchange; he was too busy musing on suspicions of his own. “So basically you're saying we have a maniac on the loose,” he said.

Garibaldi's expression was slightly pained. “Well, I wouldn't put it exactly like that, Captain....”

“Just find him, Mr Garibaldi, before he kills anyone else. And make sure Ms Winters stays safe,” he ordered before walking out.

Ivanova stared at his retreating back, then looked at Sinclair. “Maybe spacing isn't sure a bad idea.”

Sinclair smiled while Garibaldi frowned. “Did I miss something?”

The Captain shook his head. “Not really, Chief.”

“I'd better go,” Ivanova said, pointing to the doorway and sidling out.

“Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Jeff?” Garibaldi asked when they were alone.

Sinclair nodded. “That open crate. Did your investigations turn anything up on it?”

The security chief shook his head. “But you know me, I'll go at it until I find something.”

“I knew there was a good reason I hired you,” he said, smiling. “Let me know if you find anything.”

“Will do. Oh, and Jeff?”

“Yeah?”

“Warn me if you're going to space Sheridan.”

“You planning on stopping me, Chief?”

“No, I'll help.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova was in C&C when the news of Talia's attack reached her and she didn't hesitate before striding from the deck. Sheridan was just handing the telepath a glass of water when she walked into the office. “What happened?”

Garibaldi wasn't present but Ivanova could imagine he would look fit to tear someone's head off at that moment and she could guess why; it was obvious to everyone that he was infatuated with Talia, but more than that he was responsible for her safety. Sinclair, who didn't look much happier, answered. “The killer attacked again. Took out a security guard. But Talia was able to get us some information this time.”

Ivanova turned expectantly to the telepath, who took a deep, shaky breath before replying. “When I scanned him the first time, it was just a reaction on my part, and all I got were...fragments, and emptiness. But this time, I saw a memory more clearly from him.” She took another breath. “He was in a fighter and was fired upon by an...Omega class ship, I think. And...he died.”

Sheridan, who had been silent the entire time, exchanged a look with Ivanova, and finally glanced at Sinclair. “He died?” he repeated. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Talia said firmly. “It's like he's clinging to the moment of his death as the only memory he has.”

Before the discussion could continue, Garibaldi entered, and Ivanova had been right; his expression was one of cold fury, but also a touch triumphant. “Mr Garibaldi, tell us you have some good news,” Sheridan said to him.

“Well, that depends on your definition, Captain,” the security chief replied. “We've analysed the hairs that Ms Winters got from her attacker, and it was enough to identify him.” He popped a data crystal into the port and a man's face appeared on the view screen. “His name is Abel Horn....”

“Horn?” Sinclair repeated in disbelief, interrupting his friend. “He was reported to have been killed.”

“Captain, don't steal my thunder,” Garibaldi complained.

Ivanova and Talia shared a small smile over their antics, while Sheridan just scowled. “So, Mr Garibaldi, what did you find?” the younger Captain asked impatiently.

“Well, sir, Captain Sinclair is right. Horn was one of the leaders of Free Mars, and was supposed to have been killed when his ship was fired upon by the EAS Pournelle.” He glanced at Talia, his expression softening a little. “That must have been what you saw.”

Sheridan nodded slowly. “So Horn's alive and now he's after Ms Winters. The question is – why?”

“Maybe because I recognise him,” Talia suggested.

Sinclair turned to the security chief. “Mr Garibaldi, I want Ms Winters put in protective custody immediately. I don't want Horn to have another opportunity to strike.”

Garibaldi nodded. “What about Amanda Carter?”

“What about her?” the older Captain asked.

“Well, I can't be sure, but it's possible she used to have ties to Free Mars. When I was reading Horn's file, there was some speculation in there about him and Carter being pretty close at one time, when she was younger.”

Sheridan gave Sinclair an 'I told you so' look, which he ignored. “If that's true, Horn would be more interested in gaining her help than attacking her,” he reasoned. “I think our priority is Ms Winters.”

“I agree,” Ivanova said without prompting, causing Sheridan to raise his eyebrows.

Then the younger Captain became aware that Garibaldi hadn't left yet; in fact, all eyes were on him. “Fine. I suppose one of us could talk to her if necessary,” he suggested to Sinclair.

“Why don't you do it? After all, she knows you already,” Sinclair replied mildly.

Sheridan bristled and both Ivanova and Garibaldi shared a knowing look; they both understand when it was time to leave and made their excuses before the Captains started arguing. “I can stay with Ms Winters for a while, if you're busy, Garibaldi,” Ivanova offered once they were in the corridor.

The security chief looked mildly surprised but shook his head. “I'm good, thanks.”

Talia smiled at Ivanova and reached out, almost as though she was going to put her hand on her arm, but changed her mind. “Thank you, Commander.”

Ivanova just nodded and left. Inside the office, Sheridan and Sinclair were stood silently, like prize fighters sizing each other up. At least Sheridan was; Sinclair was stood with his hands in his pockets looking quite relaxed.

“It's clear Free Mars is behind this,” Sheridan spoke up eventually. “We need to inform Earthdome.”

“Is it? Do we?” Sinclair replied.

“Dammit, Sinclair, when are you going to wake up and see the obvious?”

“Why does the answer always have to be obvious, Sheridan?”

The younger Captain threw his hands in the air. “It's like talking to a Minbari!”

“Thank you.”

Sheridan looked at him, unsure how to answer that. “Look, what else could it be?”

“I don't know. You tell me. You're the one who collects secrets. Don't look so surprised and don't worry. Whether you believe it or not, your secret's safe with me.”

“How did you know?” Sheridan asked, deciding lying would be pointless.

Sinclair smiled. “Let's just say our paths have crossed over the years. There are certain things I have tried to find the answers to, and some investigations only lead in one direction.” He paused. “So, do you have any ideas who else might be responsible?”

“Maybe. But better yet, I have a good idea how Horn survived.” Sheridan pursed his lips. “Give me half an hour, then meet me in my quarters. Bring Garibaldi too.”

“And Ivanova?”

Sheridan actually smiled. “I don't think we need the entire command staff on this one, Sinclair.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Project Lazarus?” Garibaldi said, staring at the screen. “What the hell is that?”

The two Captains and the security chief were gathered in Sheridan's quarters, looking at something that could very well explain Horn's presence on the station, and Sinclair's stress levels were rising by the second. “Experimentation on people,” he all but growled.

“Recently deceased individuals,” Sheridan pointed out.

“That doesn't make it any better.”

“Some people might prefer it.”

Sinclair glared him. “Would you, Sheridan? Would you prefer to live as a walking corpse, hard wired with cybernetic implants...being controlled?” He felt his fists clench as he remembered his treatment by the mysterious Knights the year before. It was nothing compared to what Horn had been subject to, but it was enough for him to sympathise with the man.

“Not that this discussion isn't fascinating,” Garibaldi interrupted. “But how do we find him?”

“I'm working on that, Mr Garibaldi,” Sheridan snapped.

Just then the security chief's link beeped. “Yeah?”

_“Chief, Ms Winters needs to attend a meeting. You want us to take her?”_

“Hang tight, Zack, I'll be right there. Captains,” Garibaldi excused himself.

“So, how do we find him?” Sinclair repeated the question. Sheridan ignored him, eyes scanning the files. “Does it say who's behind Project Lazarus?”

Sheridan paused and took a breath before speaking. “Bureau 13.”

Sinclair closed his eyes briefly. During his attempts to track down who had sent the Knights, Bureau 13 was the name he had come across, but nothing beyond that. “Don't suppose you have anything else on them, do you?”

“No. Why?”

“Curiosity.”

Sheridan knew that wasn't the whole answer but decided not to push it. “It seems that the power source operating Horn's cybernetics emits a low level of radiation, which we should be able to track.”

“From the station house,” Sinclair said. “I'll meet you down at security.”

He didn't wait for a response, he just walked out and straight to C&C. Ivanova was in her custom position on the observation deck and he paused for a moment just to admire her. And then, as though she knew she was being watched, she turned, and seeing who it was, smiled. To anyone else, it was normal, something the two of them always did, but to Sinclair, it made the fire in his chest burn and suddenly...suddenly he wanted a lot more from their relationship than he was getting. But he also knew better than to push anything. On days like these, however, he was reminded of his own mortality; what had happened to Horn could have easily happened to him or any of the others involved in the Battle of the Line. And what followed those thoughts was usually the desire not to waste any time in his life. Before he had always thought of Catherine; now the person filling his mind was right in front of him. Literally.

“Captain?” Ivanova said gently. “Is there a problem?”

Sinclair wanted to tell her everything he was thinking, but now wasn't the place or the time. “We think we might have found a way to track Horn,” he replied quietly. “I just wanted to give you the update...and see how you were doing.”

Ivanova smiled at him. “I'm fine, thank you. But maybe later...we can...talk?”

He was surprised and he let it show. Not only was the question unusual, but the public place in which she asked it confused him. Of course, to the other crew members, it was nothing more than the second-in-command wishing to speak with a superior officer; so normal and routine that no one noticed a difference. But Sinclair knew and his expression softened more, his entire face positively glowing at her.

“Of course. I'll keep you updated on our progress.” He looked over his shoulder. “I have to go. I want to make sure Sheridan doesn't blow up the station.”

“That's a joke, right?” Ivanova asked as he left, but upon receiving no answer, she repeated herself a little more urgently. “Right??”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Do you know what you're doing?” Sinclair asked as Sheridan hunched over the controls in Garibaldi's office.

The younger Captain looked up. “Do you want to do this?”

“Alright,” Sinclair replied, holding his hands up in surrender, then putting them into his pockets.

“Now, it should just be a simple matter of....” Sheridan trailed off and started to press buttons, his expression one of concentration. “There, that should do it.”

The door behind them began to open and close randomly. Sinclair looked at Sheridan with his eyebrows raised but decided to say nothing. Then the lights started to blink on and off, and he wondered briefly if the techno-mages were back. “I think I'll go and talk with Ms Carter, see what she knows,” Sinclair said eventually.

Sheridan didn't answer; he was too busy swearing at the console in front of him.

It didn't take long for Sinclair reached Carter's quarters, though he was surprised to see Garibaldi and a security detail outside. “Chief. Something going on?”

Garibaldi looked just as surprised to see him. “Captain. No, everything's fine. What brings you down here?”

“I thought I'd have a talk with Ms Carter, see if she could help us in any way.”

“Well, you'll have to get in line,” his friend told him. “Talia's in there right now.”

Sinclair frowned and turned slowly, noting which guards made up the security team, including Zack Allen. Something about the situation seemed wrong to him, somehow, he just didn't understand why. He could reason why Talia was talking to Carter; Isogi had been a close friend of hers and it would make sense for her to want to see his work continued, and Carter clearly wanted a peaceful solution to gain Mars' independence, from what Sinclair had learnt so far. He simply couldn't believe she and Horn were working together for Free Mars to incite another rebellion.

“Chief, who set the meeting up?”

Garibaldi looked over his shoulder. “Zack?”

“I think it was Ms Carter, sir,” Zack replied.

Which made less sense to Sinclair, and an idea began to form. Horn saw Talia as a threat; Horn also had a history with Carter. If he wanted Talia, he could use Carter for that end. But as he opened his mouth to voice his suspicions to Garibaldi, Sheridan came jogging down the corridor.

“I've found Horn,” he said breathlessly. “He's in there. With Carter.”

Garibaldi and Sinclair exchanged worried looks. “And Talia,” Sinclair added.

Sheridan stared. “What?!” Then held his hand up. “Never mind. Just get us inside.”

“I want Horn alive,” Sinclair ordered, his tone daring the other Captain to disagree. He didn't.

Garibaldi barked orders, handed both Captains PPGs, then used his security override on the door. As soon as it was open, they all rushed inside, but Horn was quicker, dragging Talia in front of his as a shield. Before anyone else could speak, Sinclair stepped forward and put his PPG down.

“Don't do this, Horn,” he said quietly. “This isn't the way and you know it. Mars will be free one day, but without the violence. It has to be that way.”

Horn opened his mouth to retort, but something about Sinclair stopped him. “You understand,” he stated.

Sinclair nodded. “I do.”

For a moment it looked like he might come around, but then it was like a switch had been thrown in his head. “Put your weapons down!” he shouted.

“Let her go and we will,” Sinclair assured him.

“Guns down first!”

With a nod from the Captain, everyone complied, though Sheridan was less than happy with the situation. Instantly, Horn threw Talia to one side and grabbed Sinclair's PPG from the floor, proceeding to rage over what had been done to him. Sinclair couldn't help but sympathise and he hoped more than ever that they could find a way to get Horn through this. But as the rebel struggled to reassert control over himself, he started to raise the PPG and suddenly, he fired. Despite the closeness, despite his training in Free Mars, he missed his target of Garibaldi by a wide margin, and Sinclair understood. He wasn't trying to kill them; he wanted them to save him. But before he could voice his thoughts, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye.

“No!” he yelled as Sheridan grabbed a PPG and levelled it at Horn, shooting him squarely in the chest. The Captain's face twisted along with the rebel's as he sunk to the ground, mouthing the words, “Thanks, Earther,” with such relief that Sinclair's heart constricted. He hadn't wanted this, hadn't wanted Horn to die...at least not by Sheridan's hand. And now....

Sheridan stood silently for a second, staring down at Horn's body, before turning suddenly, his face like thunder. “'No?'” he repeated, his anger barely contained. “'No'?? Would you rather this guy had shot me, would that have made you happy, Sinclair? I know you're Mars-born and it's natural you'd have tendencies in that direction, but you're also an Earthforce officer and....”

In that instant, everything made sense, the reason Sheridan had been ordered to keep him out of the loop on this, and it cut him deep that even after so long, his heritage was being brought up as a shortcoming. But something else caught his attention; the expression on Zack's face as he scanned Horn's lifeless body and without any words being spoken, Sinclair understood what was about to happen.

“Everybody out!” he barked. The security officers scrambled obediently from the room, not wishing to witness the ensuing fight between the two commanding officers and automatically assuming that was the reason they were being ordered to leave. Only Zack knew different and moments later, so did Garibaldi.

“What's the matter, Sinclair, don't want an audience? Don't want the entire station to see your shortcomings?” Sheridan snapped. “Would you really rather people thought of you as some God-like reincarnation, some perfect being? Would you really rather be thought of as a martyr?”

Sinclair advanced on him with such aggression and speed that for a handful of seconds, Sheridan was shocked. Then he raised his arm in defence – the one that held the PPG – not entirely certain he was ready to shoot the other Captain, but damned if he was going to leave himself open for an attack. He never had the chance to do anything, however, as Sinclair slapped the PPG angrily from his hand, then grabbed his arm and his jacket front, and bodily hauled him from the room. Despite being roughly the same height, despite the fact that Sheridan outweighed Sinclair by at least ten pounds, the younger Captain felt like a rag doll being dragged around, and he wondered if his counterpart had always been so strong.

Out in the corridor, he had gathered his wits a little and began to protest, just as there was a high-pitched noise, followed by an explosion, and Sheridan was only dimly aware of being pushed ahead, out of harm's way, while Sinclair was knocked squarely from his feet by the blast.

“Captain, are you okay?” a security officer asked.

Sheridan struggled to recall his name. Allen...though whether it was his first or last name, he wasn't sure. “Yes. Yes, I'm fine.” His eyes, however, never left Sinclair, who was pushing himself to his feet unassisted. “Captain, I....” But Sinclair strode past him without looking at him; everything about his body language suggested he was mad enough to chew asteroids and it was all Sheridan's fault. The younger Captain clenched his fists by his sides and grit his teeth together hard. “Dammit. Dammit!!”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair wasn't surprised that Ivanova was stood waiting for him when he entered her quarters or that she flung her arms around him the moment the door shut. “I heard about the explosion,” she murmured into his chest.

“It must have been a fail safe,” he replied, holding her tightly to him. “I figured it out seconds before Sheridan shot; I didn't have chance to warn him.”

“But you saved his life.”

“Yes.”

Ivanova pulled back. “Why?”

Sinclair laughed. “If anyone's going to kill him, it will be me. I won't let someone else take away that satisfaction from me.”

She hit his arm and then led him to the sofa. “But you're okay,” she said as they sat down.

“I'm fine. You wanted to talk?”

“It can wait. You look more in need of talking right now.”

Sinclair sighed and then kissed her. “Thank you.”

“Your welcome,” Ivanova replied in surprise. “So, what's on your mind?”

“You remember me telling you that Sheridan was ordered to look into the negotiations between Isogi and Carter, but not to tell me.”

“Yes.”

“It's because I'm Mars-born.”

Ivanova opened her mouth to reply, then closed it again. She did this several times, before managing to utter, “I'm speechless.”

Sinclair smiled. “First time for everything.”

“What did they think you would do?”

“I suppose they felt that I might have sympathies in that direction and so could jeopardise things.”

Ivanova looked at him. “Do you?”

“Yes,” he replied honestly. “If Babylon 5 were a colony, capable of supporting itself, wouldn't you want us to independent too?”

“I suppose I've never really thought about it. I've never had to.”

“Just because I agree with the idea of a free Mars doesn't mean I agree with the way they do things,” Sinclair said.

She caressed his face. “I know that.” She looked deeply into his eyes. “Something else?”

“Sheridan's behaviour, but this is something I can't share. It's a hunch, nothing more. If I'm wrong, I don't want to influence your opinion of him, and if I'm right, I have the feeling you'll find out what's going on soon enough.”

“I understand.”

“I know you do. That's why I....” Sinclair stopped himself just in time. It was that what he was about to say was untrue, but it was much too soon.”

Ivanova seemed to understand, though, because she kissed him. “I know.”

“Now, do you want to talk?”

She shook her head. “If I'm right, you have someone you need to see.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“I thought I might find you here.”

Sinclair looked up to see Garibaldi silhouetted in the doorway. “After what happened today, I'll be fighting my way through paperwork for a week at least.”

“I still think not charging Carter was a bad idea.”

“She's jut an innocent in all of this, Michael.”

Garibaldi shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Mr Allen did well today,” Sinclair said, seeking to change the subject.

“Yeah, he's settling down well,” Garibaldi replied. “Do I get to say I told you so?”

“Not yet. He still has plenty of time to screw up.”

“You're a ray of sunshine, Jeff.”

“I've been taking lessons from Ivanova.”

“Do me a favour. Don't take any more,” Garibaldi said and Sinclair laughed. “I've spoken with Sheridan. He seems to think there's a spider in the web.” 

It was a cryptic phrase, and Sheridan's use of it had clearly piqued Garibaldi's curiosity, though it was as though that was difficult. And it was clear as well that the security chief expected his old friend to have some answers. “Perhaps he's right,” Sinclair replied quietly, unwilling to share any more than that.

“Everything okay, Captain?”

He looked at his friend and managed a smile. “Everything's fine, Chief. Why don't you take off? Your shift's just about finished anyway.”

Garibaldi understood the dismissal even if it was couched in friendly terms. “Well, if you insist.” He nodded. “Night, Jeff.”

“Night, Mike.”

Sinclair sat at the desk and stared at the other side of the room out of the window. He had been sure that having it there would be a distraction and he was right. But now he was focusing on the view to see beyond, to try and connect the dots because he felt like he was missing something. Or more accurately, he knew what was going on, he was just waiting for proof.

Sheridan approached the office cautiously, quietly...Garibaldi and Ivanova would both have called it sneaking but he preferred 'stealth'. Same thing at the end of the day, semantics really. But still, it was the principle of the matter.

Principles. There were what had landed Sheridan on Babylon 5 in the first place. He was pretty sure his principles would get him killed one day.

Noting Sinclair was alone, and noting his distraction, Sheridan made his entrance. “Captain,” he said briskly.

If he was expecting the other Captain to be startled, he was sorely disappointed. Sinclair merely looked at him as he addressed him. “Captain.” He waited until Sheridan was sitting. “Mr Garibaldi tells me you're looking for a spider in the web.”

Sheridan hesitated halfway between standing and sitting, and cursed himself for it. Of course Sinclair didn't mean anything by it...did he? Yet there was something about his tone of voice.... “That's right. I mean to catch it.”

Sinclair pinned him with a particularly piercing gaze. “Do you now? And what happens if that spider...is you?”

Delivered in his usual calm, quiet manner, but it was a thrown gauntlet nonetheless. And yet it was exactly the opening Sheridan had wanted but didn't think he'd get. “Actually, that's what I wanted to say to you about. But not here. Privately. Your quarters or mine. “

“Why are you here?”

Sheridan hesitated again, the words sparking some strange sense of deja vu in him. He blinked stupidly for a few seconds before coming back to himself. “That's what I wanted to tell you. After what just happened.... There are some secrets I'm done with keeping,” he admitted.

Sinclair nodded in understanding. “Then I suppose it's only fair that I tell you why I was sent back as well. Because I have the feeling our purpose is actually the same.”

Sheridan rolled his eyes, almost amused by the other Captain's nonchalance. “I'm starting to have the same feeling.”

“So, you want to go first?”

TBC


	32. 207 A Race Through Dark Places

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, less Sheridan-bashing. ;) Hope it meets with your approval!

_March 2259_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

When Ivanova entered the office that morning, the last thing she expected to see was the two Captains inside already. Admittedly, it was a scene she had witnessed before, but tension between them seem to have undulated and built over the three months since they had been been on the station, and though there were times when it seemed like they had found a balance, those times were few and far between. And especially after the last incident with a cybernetic assassin and Free Mars ties, Ivanova had thought that the only possible outcome would be one of them leaving. Yet they were both still here, and although the scene before her wasn't anything spectacular, there was something in the atmosphere she couldn't quite put her finger on, something almost...peaceful.

She lingered in the doorway, committing the scene to memory, though she wasn't sure why. Sheridan was sat at the desk, leaning back in his chair, a mug of coffee in one hand, a report in the other. Occasionally he would either frown or roll his eyes, or even make a 'hmm' noise is disagreement. When he was done with it, he'd throw it on the desk to one of two piles; clearly he had a system going on. Her eyes then shifted across the room to Sinclair, who sat in the corner of one of the sofas, elbow resting on the arm, coffee in hand, a report in the other, his long legs stretched out before him. His face was fairly impassive, but every so often, he would bring the cup towards his lips and stop before taking a drink, something clearly catching his attention, and the mug would be lowered without any liquid ever having left. She found his distraction quite endearing, and although she would have liked to stand there a while longer observing them, Ivanova had actually gone looking for them for a specific reason, though whether having them in the same room would make this easier or worse, she wasn't sure.

Taking a deep breath, she strode into the room. “Good morning, Captain. Captain,” she said, looking from Sheridan to Sinclair.

Sinclair looked up, a smile gracing his face when he saw her. “Good morning, Commander,” he replied.

“How are things today?” Sheridan asked.

She gave them a quick update on station operations, watching for any sign that they knew about the other thing. “And another matter has come to my attention, which....” Ivanova sighed in frustration at their confusing, frowning expressions. “You haven't heard. Great.”

“Heard what?”

Trying to remember that they were her superior officers and therefore it was inappropriate to roll her eyes at them – on of them, any way, and especially in public – Ivanova explained about Earth Central insisting that she, Sinclair and Sheridan all pay rent because their quarters were bigger than everyone else's.

Sinclair was silent for a moment afterwards; Sheridan was anything but. “Those penny pinching, money grabbing.... We are on call twenty four hours a day,” he complained, jumping to his feet. “And they want us to pay for the privilege of an extra couple of feet?”

“Ten square feet, sir,” Ivanova pointed out to him.

He glared at her. “It's the principle of the matter,” he said. “You can tell them to go to hell. In fact, I'll tell them myself.” And with that he strode from the room.

Sinclair watched him go with an amused expression, then gestured to the sofa opposite him, smiling as Ivanova dropped dejectedly onto it. “I had a feeling he'd say that.”

“I have to say that I agree with him. What about you?”

“It's only thirty credits a week,” she replied in exasperation.

“Like Sheridan said, it's the principle of the matter, Susan,” he told her. “But there's no need for the three of us to protest actively.” He smiled again and Ivanova felt that was a most unfair tactic to use. Her knees always seemed to feel a little weak when he did that. “See if Doctor Franklin has a spare cot in his quarters. I almost certain he 'requisitioned' one for medical purposes some time ago. I'm sure he won't mind you using it until this is sorted if things turn out for the worst.”

“What about you?”

Sinclair thought that Ivanova also used unfair tactics; her piercing gaze, laced heavily with genuine concern, made him love her all the more. “If the worst come to the worst, Sheridan and I can fight over the sofa in our office,” he replied lightly.

“I know who my money is on,” she murmured as she went in search of Franklin.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Captain Sinclair!”

Sinclair stopped walking and turned, a smile already on his face before his gaze fell on the person hailing him. “Ambassador Delenn.”

Her smile was just as warm and affectionate, even more so now after her transformation, Sinclair noticed. He also found the addition of hair along with the bonecrest quite attractive, although Delenn would never be anything more than a very good friend. “What can I do for you?”

“It is something of a...personal matter, Captain.”

“I have time now. My...sorry, the office?”

Delenn smiled at the conscience effort he made to include Sheridan as an equal. “Actually, I was wondering if we could discuss this over...coffee? Is that the correct term?”

Sinclair grinned openly. “Yes. Yes, it is. We can discus this over a drink if that's what you would prefer.”

Looking quite pleased with herself, Delenn turned in the direction of the Zocalo, but waited for him to take the lead. He found a quiet corner and ordered drinks for them both, choosing something palatable and non-lethal for her.

“So, how can I help?”

Delenn lowered her eyes and actually fidgeted nervously, which Sinclair found endearing for some reason. “I wish to learn more about humans and their ways, especially since I am partly one now. This...tradition is one of the ways I thought would help me to learn, and perhaps something we could do...on a...regular basis?” She hesitated, as though unsure if she was using the right words for form the right phrase. “It would please me to build our relationship into one of true friendship, and not just respect for our positions.”

“It would please me as well,” Sinclair responded sincerely. “It might be difficult with my duties, and yours, but I'm sure we could find time at least once a week to sit and have a drink. We could talk about the weather.”

Delenn frowned. “I do not understand.”

“It's an old Earth custom, though I don't know why. When two people meet, in order to break the ice, they discuss the weather as it's a common ground and anyone can talk about it.”

She didn't understand what 'break the ice' meant, but as he finished speaking, she could guess at it's meaning. “It seems...dark today. Perhaps not quite as dark as yesterday, but darker than tomorrow.”

Sinclair laughed loudly, the deep, chest rumbling sound he made rarely, but it pleased Delenn immensely. “I think you're right,” he agreed, still smiling.

“And what else does one discuss over drinks?”

“You ask about mutual friends, family members, likes and hobbies. Anything but work,” Sinclair replied, sure now she was asking for another reason.

And as though she could read his mind, Delenn said, “I would like to ask Captain Sheridan to join me for a meal, but I am unaware of how to handle the situation and was wondering if you could advise me...as a friend...Jeff.” She hesitated and he didn't speak, sure she had more to say. “I would also wish that it meet with your approval. Though I cannot say why, it is important to me.”

He could understand it, why she was asking Sheridan to dinner and not him. Sheridan was different than other humans she had met, and new to the station. He had arrived at a time when she had changed, and it seemed fitting he be part of the process of self-discovery she was on. “I think it's an excellent idea, and if he refuses, I'll lock him in the brig for a very long time,” Sinclair said warmly. “As for etiquette in these situations....”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova found Franklin in AirHarts with Keffer and she approved of him taking a little downtime. She had noticed he seemed to be working that bit harder lately, though whether that was just an attempt to impress Sheridan, or continue to impress Sinclair, she wasn't sure.

“Oh, I know that look,” Franklin said with a smile as she approached them. “Which one of them was it this time?”

“Who did what?” Keffer asked.

“Neither and none, actually,” Ivanova replied. “It was Earth Central.” Briefly she told them what was happening.

“I can imagine what both Captains said about that,” Franklin said dryly when she had finished.

“I wondered what that loud noise was earlier,” Keffer added with a smile.

The doctor looked at Ivanova. “And you're joining them in their protests?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether or not you'll let me bunk in the spare cot you have in your quarters,” she said, smiling sweetly.

Keffer looked at Franklin. “How come you have a spare cot?”

“Medical purposes. You know...just in case,” he replied defensively. “What if I say no?” Ivanova just glared at him. “Alright, it was just a question. Of course you can use it.”

“You're too kind,” she murmured, while Keffer tried to hide his smile behind his drink.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sometime later, Sinclair found himself at the desk of the office, his knuckles pressed into his eyes. The day had actually started off fairly well, despite the news that they were being forced to pay rent. He could understand Ivanova's point of view, that it was only thirty credits, but then he agreed with Sheridan too about the principle of the matter. And really, if that was all he had to deal with that day, he would have been happy. But no. There was always something else, especially on Babylon 5. And the latest 'thing', which undoubtedly lead to a situation, was the imminent arrival of a very unwelcome visitor.

Sheridan chose that moment to bounce – Sinclair couldn't quite believe his eyes – into the room, and...yes, he was humming. The older Captain just stared at his counterpart incredulously. “Did I miss something?”

Sheridan blinked a few times, only just realising he was there. “Oh, no. I just....” Suddenly he was nervous. Why should it bother him what Sinclair thought? And yet it did. Especially when it involved Delenn. “I spoke with Dr Franklin, who agrees with us about the rent situation but predicts we'll lose in the end. He also has a spare cot, did you know that?”

Sinclair nodded. “Requisitioned for medical purposes. I suggested that Ivanova take it.”

“Good idea,” Sheridan agreed easily, too easily for Sinclair's liking.

“Alright, Captain. Give. What has you in such a good mood?”

Sheridan sat down at the other side of the desk. “What would you think if Delenn and I...had dinner? I mean, just as...associates. She asked me, as she wants to better understand humans,” he clarified quickly.

Sinclair tried not to smile or let on that he already knew what was happening. Instead he allowed an expression of mild surprise to form on his face. “What do you think about the idea?” he asked the other Captain.

“Well, it was a surprise, that's for sure, but...it could be a good thing. Especially for diplomatic relations,” Sheridan added in a rush.

“Of course,” Sinclair replied, straight faced. “I agree, though I'm sure Delenn could have picked someone better to share a meal with.”

Sheridan mock-glared at him, glad they had talked the week before and truly cleared the air. Although they had agreed to keep up a pretence for at least a short time, he was glad to finally be himself instead of a puppet, even if it was around just one person. “And what has you in such a bad mood, Captain?”

Sinclair's expression changed instantly and he scowled. “Mr Bester will be arriving on the station shortly. Apparently he needs our help.”

“Bester?”

“He's a Psi Cop.”

“I've heard of him.”

“Wait until you've had the pleasure of meeting him.” Sinclair leant back in his chair. “I've already told Ivanova and Garibaldi, they'll be here shortly.”

“And how soon will Mr Bester be arriving?” Sheridan asked.

“Sooner than I'd like.”

Any further conversation was cut off by Ivanova and Garibaldi walking into the room, and both officers picked up on the atmosphere immediately. “Who died?” the security chief joked, immediately regretting it as three pairs of eyes glared at him.

“Mr Bester will be arriving on the station shortly, though he wouldn't say why, only that it was a matter of station security,” Sinclair told them bluntly.

Sheridan had never seen Ivanova's expression shift so quickly, and even Garibaldi looked supremely unhappy. “I don't suppose saying 'no' was an option?” he asked.

“Now, Mr Garibaldi, I might get the feeling you just don't like me.”

Everyone in the room to see Bester stood in the doorway, his usual smug expression etched firmly on his face, Talia by his side. “Commander Ivanova, a pleasure as always. Captain Sinclair...a surprise, to say the least.” It was clear that the contempt in which Sinclair held Bester was mutual. “And Captain Sheridan. Nice to meet you.”

Sheridan budge. “Likewise. So, Mr Bester, what can we do for you?”

After the telepath had explained why he was there, Sinclair shared a look with the others. “If you and Ms Winters would wait outside for a few moments, we need to discuss this situation amongst ourselves.”

The glance Bester tossed in Sheridan's direction wasn't lost on anyone; clearly he was hoping the other Captain would countermand the 'request'. He didn't. “Of course,” the telepath replied, clearly put out.

Once they were along, Sinclair looked around, his eyes naturally falling on Ivanova first. “Analysis.”

“Someone's helping the telepaths get out from under the control of the Psi Corps,” she said. “I don't see a problem with that.” It was clear she was thinking about Alisa Beldon, as was Sinclair, and he found it difficult not to smile. The young woman had made an impression on them all, and he regretted not having the time to see her when he was last on Minbar. Next time, he promised himself.

“Maybe, but the rogues are breaking the law,” Garibaldi pointed out. “We have a duty to help Bester uphold that law.”

Ivanova stared incredulously at him. “Surely you're not saying agree with him?”

“No, I'm just saying we should do our jobs,” he replied. “Besides, the sooner we find out who's responsible for this underground railroad, the sooner Bester leaves, and I don't know about you, but I like that idea.”

Sinclair looked at Sheridan. “Captain, your thoughts.”

Ivanova caught Garibaldi's surprised expression but didn't acknowledge it; maybe later they'd talk about it, but right now she was pissed at him for even suggesting they give Bester any courtesies, though it was the proper thing to do.

“I think Mr Garibaldi is right. Whether we like it or not doesn't matter. Chief, give Mr Bester whatever help he needs,” Sheridan replied. Garibaldi nodded, glancing briefly at Sinclair for confirmation before leaving. Ivanova hesitated before she too walked out. “Alright, Sinclair, what am I missing?”

“How far back did you read the station reports?”

“Only the recent ones.”

“That's what I thought.” Sinclair sighed. “I suggest you read the reports from the whole of last year, especially our previous encounters with Bester. Look up the Ironheart incident. And when you've done that, talk to Mr Garibaldi. His files are slightly more comprehensive.” He smiled faintly.

“I imagine they are. And it's obvious I'm missing something,” Sheridan replied.

“I could tell you, but I don't want to color your opinion on anything. I want you to make your own judgement.”

“Alright. I suppose it's something to fill the time before my dinner appointment later.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Perhaps it was because Sheridan and Delenn were having a not-too-discreet dinner date at Fresh Air – Sinclair had caught rumours already about the dress the ambassador was wearing and he would have given anything to see the other Captain's face – but he found himself deliberately seeking out Ivanova's company that evening. He knew she was off duty, as was he, and ideally he would have liked to have dinner in either his quarters or hers, but as that wasn't possible, he had hoped to find her and suggest something else. AirHarts, perhaps, or even a quiet place off the Zocalo. Yet he couldn't find her. Normally it wouldn't concern him too much, but with Bester on the station and Ivanova's distinct hatred of telepaths in general – Talia seemed to be the exception to the rule – Sinclair was starting to worry.

He stopped in the main eating area of the market, not moving, just sensing, and then slowly, he looked to his left. Ivanova's expression from her secluded spot clearly told him she had been waiting for him to find her, and although she still look annoyed from earlier, she also seemed glad to see him.

“May I?” Sinclair felt the need to ask.

Ivanova nodded, but he had barely settled when she spoke. “Why didn't you object, Jeff?”

They were still in their uniforms, and in such a public space, there was no opportunity to shed his jacket or rolls his sleeves up, and he suddenly felt very constricted by the material, especially when he wanted this to be a less formal occasion.

“It was the right thing to do, Susan,” Sinclair replied. “Sometimes we have to do things we don't like.”

To his surprise, she reached across the table and covered his hand with hers. “I know. It's just...Psi Cops. And someone helping telepaths? I say give them a medal.”

He smiled back. “I know. I feel the same way. But we have rules for a reason. Not all telepaths have a good moral code.” He looked up as a waiter approached. “Have you eaten yet?” he asked her.

Ivanova shook her head, reluctantly letting go of his hand. “I was going to grab something from the mess hall but felt like something different.”

They ordered and as they waited for their meal, they talked about Alisa. “Do you ever hear from her?” Sinclair asked.

“Only once or twice since she left. What about you?” A thought suddenly and obviously occurred to Ivanova. “Have you seen her?”

Sinclair could have easily lied outright, but he didn't want to; he also didn't tell her the whole truth. “Briefly, when I was on Minbar last month,” he replied. “I forgot to tell you, sorry.”

Ivanova waved his apology away. “Understandable. Is she doing okay?”

“She looks well and happy. Asked about you and Talia, and Michael and Stephen too. She told me to say hi to everyone and that she misses you and wishes she was still here. But the Minbari are taking good care of her and I think she's actually enjoying herself.”

“Good,” Ivanova replied, her eyes misting a little. “Good.” Then she cleared her throat, once again in control of herself, and looked him square in the eye. “What about you and Captain Sheridan?”

Again, Sinclair could have lied, but he wouldn't. He also couldn't tell her the truth, at least not yet. “We've reached an understanding,” he said. “We'll never agree on everything, but we can agree that the well being of this station and its inhabitants is paramount to both of us.”

“At least that's something.” Then her eyes started to twinkle. “Do you happen to know where Captain Sheridan is this evening?”

Sinclair smiled as he answered. “I believe he is enjoying dinner with Ambassador Delenn.”

Ivanova's face was a picture; clearly she had wanted to share that information with him and didn't look too happy that he already knew. “Great, the one bit of gossip....”

“Commander.”

“Sorry, 'information' and you already know it! I don't know why I bother.”

Sinclair laughed and the conversation moved easily along, both of them enjoying each other's company immensely, perhaps more than they should. They finished their meal and ordered coffees, but Ivanova pulled a face while drinking.

“This is fine, but I think I need the proper stuff. I think I still have a little fresh coffee left, if you'd care for one?”

It was a casual invite, nothing out of the ordinary, but Sinclair's heart skipped a beat. “Sure.”

“Ah, there you are. I've been looking all over for you.”

They both turned to see Garibaldi approaching. “Chief. What's up?” Ivanova told him. “We were just leaving.”

“I hope you weren't planning on going back to your quarters,” he said, giving no indication he had overheard the tail end of the conversation or not.

Sinclair smiled. “Where else would we be going, Michael?”

Garibaldi pulled a face. “Okay, fair point. But I wouldn't, if I were you.”

“Is there a problem, Mr Garibaldi?” Ivanova asked pointedly.

“With your quarters? Yeah, you could say that.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan was in a particularly good mood as he walked towards his quarters. The evening had gone much better than he could ever have imagined. Delenn had been a most delightful companion, exhibiting a sense of humor Sheridan didn't think the Minbari possessed, and the way she had looked.... He was certain he had stopped breathing for a short time. But mingled with his happy glow was a sense of confusion and guilt because he had discovered that he found Delenn attractive. This confused him because she was Minbari and he had never thought about aliens being attractive before. Secondly, he felt guilty because of Anna. True, she had been gone for two years, but Sheridan had never fully excepted that; in his heart, he always hoped she would return. Of course, he was probably over analysing things. Delenn's interest in him, and the reason she sought out his company, was purely for cultural interests, nothing more. And yet, the way she had reacted to him all evening...something told him there was more there, or at least the possibility of more. In time. Maybe.

Reaching his door, he popped the card into the slot and waited. The door remained shut. Frowning, he tried again. And again. Nothing.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” Sinclair noted in a conversational tone just as Sheridan was about to get violent with the door mechanism.

The younger Captain turned to look at him strolling down the corridor. “Oh yeah? Why not?”

“Because I tried the same thing with mine. Set off the sprinklers on the whole level. Almost gave Garibaldi a heart attack, which didn't please him as he was the one who told me our quarters had been sealed on Earthdome's orders.” It didn't help that Sinclair was grinning when he said it.

Sheridan's shoulders slumped dejectedly. “Dammit. I can't believe they locked us out! You got something to jimmy this thing with?”

“I don't think that would be a good idea; I don't really want to spend the night in the brig.”

“Garibaldi that pissed off?”

Sinclair smiled again. “Just a little.”

“Well, what do you suggest?”

“The office.”

“I suppose the sofa might be comfier than the bunks in the brig,” Sheridan conceded.

“Who said you get the sofa?”

Sheridan smirked. “Tell you what, Captain Sinclair. I'll race you. First one to our office gets the sofa. Loser gets the office chair.”

“Agreed, Captain Sheridan.”

“Alright, on three. One....”

Sinclair never heard the rest of Sheridan's countdown; as soon as the other Captain agreed to the proposal, he was off. He was already shoeless and jacketless when he finally wheezed into their office.

“That...was...unfair,” Sheridan said between breaths.

“Out of shape, are we?” Sinclair asked mildly, more than a little smug.

Sheridan glowered, silently wondering again how the older Captain was so fit; he still remembered the ease with which he had hauled him out of harms way just a few weeks ago, and while it wasn't unusual for Earthforce officers to exercise, something about it made Sheridan's sixth sense take note. “Tomorrow night, if this isn't sorted, we're swapping.”

Sinclair didn't reply; he was too busy making a show of stretching out on the sofa, his hands folded behind his head, but he found he was soon lost in thoughts about Ivanova to keep up the game. Luckily Sheridan oblivious to Sinclair's preoccupation; he was too busy with his own thoughts of Delenn, and even if he did suspect something was amiss, he had no clue as to what it could be. Unfortunately for the younger Captain, however, Sinclair noticed _his_ distraction, and can easily guess as to the source. And although he knew not everyone would treat the situation the same way, he was happy for them. Despite their differences, despite the fact he _knew_ Delenn was still hiding things from him, Sinclair was glad she had found someone to truly appreciate her, and although he and Sheridan have had their differences too, he knew the other Captain was the man to do just that. Even if neither of them realised what was happening yet.

“I heard a good one today,” Sheridan said suddenly, the amusement evident in his voice. “How many Minbari does it take to screw in a light bulb?”

Turning onto his sides and resisting the urge to throw something at the other Captain, Sinclair decided he might have to re-evaluate his option of Sheridan.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Good morning, Captain. Sleep well?” Ivanova greeted Sinclair the next day.

He glared at her. “Good? Since when did you and mornings get along so well?” he asked.

Ivanova's eyes widened. “Since when did you and mornings _not_ get along?” she retorted. “Didn't you get the sofa?”

“I got the sofa. I also had _him_ talking until the small hours of the morning.”

“Oh.” Without another word, she passed him a mug from her tray; it was only then he noticed she was carrying two. “It's a good job I picked this up.”

And it was obvious it hadn't come from the officer's mess either; the smell was unmistakably proper coffee from Ivanova's well-guarded stash, which meant she knew exactly what kind of mood he was going to be in before she had even seen him. That, before anything else, made him smile. Then their fingers touched, his brushing hers, and everything else was forgotten.

Until Sheridan walked into the room.

“Don't tell me I can't kill him,” Sinclair growled.

“I think there are several people, Mr Garibaldi and Ambassador Delenn amongst them, who might disagree strongly with that course of action, sir,” Ivanova said.

“And there are probably several more who would give me a medal,” he muttered. 

“Good morning, Captain. Commander,” Sheridan said with a bright smile as he sat down, despite having slept in his chair, clearly still on a high from his dinner with the Minbari ambassador the night before.

Ivanova nodded. “Captain.”

“Captain,” Sinclair replied, then his gaze shifted. “Michael, you look like hell.”

“It's Bester. He wants an update,” Garibaldi said as he sat down heavily.

“Tell him...,” Sinclair started heatedly, but was interrupted before he could start on his tirade properly.

“Tell Mr Bester that we're working as fast as we can,” Sheridan said smoothly. “And remind him that if he decides he can't wait for us to do things the right way, he might not make it off this station in one piece.”

“Oh, that's a message I'll enjoy delivering,” Garibaldi replied with a smile.

“Still no luck with tracking them down?” Ivanova asked.

He shook his head. “If I could figure out how they're getting on and off the station so easily, that would be a start.”

Just then Sheridan's link beeped. “Sheridan, go.”

_“Captain, you wanted reminding of the council meeting.”_

He groaned and pulled a face. “Thank you, I'm on my way.”

_“Should I contact Captain Sinclair?”_

“No, he's with me.” Sheridan cut the link and stared ruefully at his breakfast, then up at Sinclair. “I suppose we'd better go.”

“I hate you,” Sinclair muttered, managing to drain his coffee at least before the two of them walked off together.

“Is it me or are they actually getting along?” Garibaldi asked.

Ivanova just shrugged. “Had to happen sooner or later.”

“Why?”

“Because the alternative was too terrible to think about,” she replied seriously.

The security chief nodded, then sat back and stretched. “You know, something like this underground railroad could only succeed with someone in a position of authority helping out, maybe even running it. My guess is one of the senior staff, but....” He stopped suddenly.

“Why are you staring at me?” she asked him.

“Because you hate the Psi Corps, because you worked pretty hard to get Alisa Beldon off the station and out of their hands, because you're sneaky.... Oh, I could go on,” Garibaldi said.

Ivanova smiled fondly at him. “Nice try, Michael, but you're way off base. Sorry.”

Garibaldi thumped the table gently. “Nuts.” Then his link went off as well, calling him away. “See you later,” he said as he stood and walked away.

She just nodded and watched him go. While the security chief might have no clue who was behind their problem, Ivanova was almost certain she knew exactly who it was. The question was, though, what to do about it, if anything?

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sometime later, and the morning had gone from being fairly normal to being an unmitigated disaster, all because of Bester. While having breakfast with Talia, they had been attacked; he had killed two rogue telepaths and she had been kidnapped. And now, now he was parading about in front of them, explaining what had happened as though it was some kind of simple operation...as though he was the most important being in the universe, and that Talia's life wasn't in danger.

As Garibaldi erupted, Ivanova happened to be watching Bester's expression, and although he seemed unruffled by the outburst, there was definitely another emotion on his face, one she couldn't quite pinpoint. The more she thought about it later, the more it seemed like _fascination_ to her, and not of the good kind, though it made no sense to her. It did, however, made her extremely edgy.

Sinclair's reaction to the situation was predictable, and it seemed that Sheridan was also forming a similar opinion of Bester on his own, judging by how he was reacting. In fact, the disappearance of Talia made Ivanova's mind up for her; she would interfere with the process, she would make a nuisance of herself, and in the end, she would get the telepath back unharmed.

“Commander. What a surprise seeing you down here,” Franklin greeted her with a smile. “Did you sleep alright last night?”

“Preferable to the office,” she replied. “Except for someone trying to sneak out of his quarters and back in again.”

“Emergency,” Franklin said.

Ivanova just stared at him. Noting that they were alone, she took a step closer to him. “Stephen, Ms Winters has been kidnapped by the rogue telepaths. We're afraid they might hurt her.”

“They wouldn't....” The doctor caught himself, but it was too late. The damage had been done.

Ivanova nodded. “I knew it was you.”

Franklin sighed and leant against the wall. “What gave it away?”

“Garibaldi said it had to be someone on the senior staff. Ruling out the Captains and Garibaldi himself, I knew I wasn't behind it, which only left you. Besides, there was something about that illegal clinic you set up in Downbelow last year....”

“That was for a legitimate reason,” he interrupted.

Ivanova just looked at him. “Yes, a legitimate _illegal_ reason. But you did help people. _But_ I think partly it was a cover to help filter telepaths through the station.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“I will do nothing, Doctor. But what you should do is talk to Captain Sheridan. Tell him that you can arrange a meeting between himself and these rogue telepaths. Explain to him that Ms Winters is unharmed....”

“She is,” Franklin assured her when she paused, clearly asking a question without actually doing so.

Ivanova nodded. “Good. Then you can tell him that and see if you can find a solution to this mess that won't damage the station's integrity.”

“I did think about that before I started this, Susan,” he told her. “I weighed up the odds of how much good I'd be doing against how much harm I could cause, to everyone. But when you've heard the stories that I've heard....” He shook his head. “I know you've had your trouble with the Psi Corps, but from what I've heard, your mother was actually one of the lucky ones. Look at Jason Ironheart, as just one example. Someone had to help them.”

“I'm not condemning or judging you, Stephen,” Ivanova replied gently. “But with Bester onboard, this situation is going to spiral out of control quickly, with more dead bodies to add to the count. And I know you don't want that.”

“I don't. I'll talk to Sheridan.”

“Good.”

“Just out of curiosity, why him and not Captain Sinclair?” Franklin asked.

“Sheridan needs to feel like he's a part of Babylon 5,” Ivanova replied.

“And you don't know exactly how he feels about telepaths and you want to know.”

“That too.” There was a long silence, ended when Ivanova folded her arms and stared pointedly at him. “Are you still here?”

Franklin saluted crisply, wisely keeping his mouth shut as he walked out of med lab.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair wished for the sanctuary of his quarters, but wasn't about to get it until he paid the extra thirty credits. And he might have actually gone along with that if he hadn't been locked out of them. Now giving in was definitely not an option. Instead, he was in the Zen garden, hoping he would be left alone but thinking that the possibility of that was almost zero. Someone always managed to find him there; in fact, no matter where he went on the station, someone found him and subsequently disturbed him. The only place he was rarely bothered were his rooms.

His thoughts turned to the underground railroad, and although he was concerned for Talia's well being, something told him she was safe; something told him the rogue telepaths weren't the real threat. And also, like Ivanova, he had good idea who was responsible for helping the telepaths; he just wasn't sure whether to berate or congratulate the doctor.

Bester. He was the real problem and not just now. Sinclair hadn't forgotten Bester's involvement in the Eyes investigation that almost had him, Ivanova and Garibaldi court-marshalled over a grudge. He hadn't forgotten Bester's probable involvement in Santiago's assassination – he refused to think of it simply as 'death' – and Garibaldi's subsequent shooting, which in turn made him wonder, and worry, about the telepath's seeming interest in his old friend. And of course he could never forget Jason Ironheart.

A sudden realisation hit Sinclair like a kick in the chest. It was during the Ironheart incident, the first and only time he had ever met Bester before, that he had last seen Catherine. Almost a year ago. And despite the message he received from her a few months before, he hadn't thought about her, hadn't wondered how her expedition was going, nothing. She hadn't even entered his mind, and that, he knew, was a first since they had met at the academy. Of course he wished her well, but a part of him felt incredible free at the same time.

Soft footfalls disturbed Sinclair's thoughts and he smiled ruefully. He he predicted, his peace and quiet was about to be disturbed, but if he was correct in his assumption of who was approaching, the distraction would be quite pleasant.

Sure enough, Delenn appeared in the circular entrance moments later. “Captain. I can come back if you wish to be alone.”

He always marvelled at how well she seemed to be able to read his expressions. “No, it's fine. How was dinner?” he asked politely once she was sat next to him.

“Most...enjoyable.”

“You sound surprised.”

“Meals are a solemn affair on Minbar, as I'm sure you are now aware,” Delenn replied quietly, with a smile.

He smiled back. “I noticed.”

“Yet meals amongst humans seem to be more of sociable gathering. Not quite as riotous as the Centauri, perhaps, but still louder than I am used to.”

“As long as you had a good time.”

“I did. Thank you.” Surprising them both, she laid her hand on his arm briefly.

As Sinclair stared into Delenn's eyes, he saw endless possibilities and ideas, pasts and futures staring back at him. He saw a depth of understanding of the universe he couldn't possibly hope to achieve, and yet there was also a deep melancholy, a sense of loneliness she did her best to hide. Covering her hand with his, he leant forward slight.

“You are never alone. I am with you always.” Then he carded his fingers very lightly through her hair. “I like this, you know. It suits you.”

Then, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, they separated. “You seem troubled, Captain,” Delenn said after a brief silence.

“We have a potentially dangerous situation on the station, an Earth internal matter,” Sinclair replied, seeking to assure her. “We've already had two people killed from it, and I fear it could only get worse. That, and Sheridan, Ivanova and myself have been locked out of our quarters.”

At her puzzled expression, he quickly explained what had happened, not overly thrilled when she smiled in amusement at him. “The solution to me seems quite simple.”

“I know, pay the extra credits.”

“No. Tell me, Captain, how did you settle the workers strike in the docks last year?” Delenn asked.

Sinclair looked at her, comprehension dawning on his face. “Delenn, I could kiss you. But I won't.” He grinned as he stood. “Thank you.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“So, what exactly happened?” Garibaldi asked from his perch on the arm of the sofa. “Because I'm a little confused.”

“Bester thought he saw Talia helping him to destroy the rebels, but really it was just at telepathic projection,” Sheridan told him.

“Amazing, really, what they could accomplish by working together, especially against a Psi Cop,” Franklin mused thoughtfully.

“And you're sure Ms Winters won't be punished for any of this?” Ivanova asked with concern.

Sinclair turned to look at her, craning his neck a little as they were sat next to each other, Garibaldi on her other side. “If Bester thinks she helped him, there should be no reason for him to doubt otherwise.” He looked to Sheridan and Franklin sat on the other sofa.

“He didn't show any signs of being aware of what was really going on,” Franklin said.

Sheridan was nodding in agreement. “He didn't even know we were there.”

“So...the railroad isn't functional any more?” Garibaldi asked Franklin, who nodded. “Bester's gone. The telepaths are safe. I'd say that's a job well done. In fact, I'd say we deserve a little down time. AirHarts, my treat?”

Franklin stood first. “Now that's something you don't hear every day,” he said with a smile. “Count me in.”

“Captains? Commander?”

Sheridan was grinning. “Absolutely.”

But Ivanova looked less than happy. “Have you forgotten the small matter of our quarters?”

Sheridan's face fell immediately, though Sinclair was definitely more poker face. “Why don't you go ahead?” he suggested. Garibaldi and Franklin didn't need to be told twice.

“Please tell me I can go back to sleeping in my own quarters tonight, sir,” Ivanova said, her tone weary.

“I don't see what you have to complain about,” Sheridan told her, then looked back to Sinclair. “Tonight we can arm wrestle for who gets the sofa.”

Sinclair smirked. “Why? Do you think you'd have a better chance of winning?”

But before the younger Captain could retort, Ivanova narrowed her eyes. “You've figured out a solution, haven't you.”

“Of course.”

“Well?” Sheridan demanded to know.

“I've diverted ninety credits per week from the station's military budget to pay for the rent on our quarters,” Sinclair replied smoothly.

The other Captain couldn't help himself. “On what grounds?”

“On the grounds that I for one am not prepared to deal with any crisis, incident or situation until I've had a decent night's sleep in my own bed. And I assumed you both felt the same way.”

Ivanova was smiling. “I have no problems with that. Captain Sheridan?”

He held his hands up and rocked on his feet a little. “Oh no. No problem at all. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a appointment with a long shower.” He left the office looking like a very happy man.

Sinclair shook his head while laughing, and Ivanova's smile grew. But then they realised that they were alone in the office, and suddenly things felt awkward between them. “So,” he said.

“That seems to be a favourite tactic of yours, diverting funds from the military budget.”

He shrugged. “Whatever works.” He put his hands in his pockets. “Susan...last night, when we had dinner...I wanted it to be in either my quarters or yours. I wanted to spend some quality down time with you. And now we have our quarters back...I just want to relax alone and go to bed early.”

Ivanova let out a sigh of relief. “I was thinking exactly the same thing.” She smiled. “There will be other days to spend time with each other. Neither of us are going anywhere...are you?”

Sinclair smiled back. “No, I'm not. Walk with me?”

They strolled down the corridors, enjoying the normal buzz of activity of the station, nodding and exchanging greetings occasionally with other crew members and familiar civilian faces. When it came time for them to go their separate ways, there was no hesitation, no sense of need to touch each other. They just smiled and wished each other good night, and later, Sinclair reflected, that was just perfect in its own way.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Talia walked slowly away from the customs area, lost in her thoughts, which was somewhat unusual for a telepath. While Bester had been disappointed with Sheridan's lack of cooperation, Talia wasn't surprised. Babylon 5 and its inhabitants had a way of affecting people in unknown ways; she was proof of that. Sheridan wasn't being manipulated in any way, she knew, just subtly encouraged to be his own person, not just what Earthforce told him to be. In the same way she was learning she was more than just the Corps.

She had agreed to keep an eye on Sheridan, and Sinclair, for Bester but only because she knew she could hide the lie from him. That had surprised Talia. She knew Bester would scan her; she had come to expect it, yet when he hadn't picked out certain pieces of information from her mind, she began to wonder. And then, as he was leaving, he deliberately stopped and stared at her, as though he knew she was blocking him but couldn't figure out how. And then in his arrogance, he had decided it was impossible by striding away to his transport. But Talia knew it was possible, and suddenly everything had changed for her. Suddenly, she needed a friend.

A short while later, bottle of wine in hand, Talia nervously buzzed the chimes. A familiar voice invited her inside, and when she saw Ivanova dressed so casually, obviously ready for bed, her throat constricted for some reason.

To cover her hesitation, she brandished the bottle of wine. “I come bearing gifts.”

“Ms Winters, it's late,” Ivanova said, but didn't ask her to leave.

“I know, and I'm sorry. It's just I've come to realise a lot of things recently, and...I need someone to talk to. In fact, I need a friend,” Talia replied.

Ivanova studied her for a few moments, sensing a change, and then slowly, she nodded. “Alright. But before we do, I'd like you to remove that.”

Talia ran her fingers over her Psi Corps badge before shakily unpinning it, setting it on the table facing away. Then, to Ivanova's surprise, she also removed her gloves. “I want to start by saying that you were right and I was wrong. All along. The Psi Corps isn't what I thought it was. It isn't what I hoped it would be. I suppose when it's all you've known, it's hard to see the truth. And...I wanted to thank you. For giving me a chance to be more than just an institution to you. For allowing me to be a person.”

Ivanova finally smiled. “Why don't you get a couple of glasses and I'll find something to open that bottle with.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Good morning, Commander,” Sheridan greeted her the next day on the observation deck.

“You look particularly cheerful, sir,” Ivanova replied.

“I am, Commander, I am,” he replied, beaming. “You know , it was great to be back in my quarters last night. Peace and quiet.”

“Captain?” Ivanova asked, smiling in confusion.

Sheridan chuckled and shook his head. “It's nothing, Commander. Just that Sinclair snores. Loudly.”

“Really? I've never noticed,” she replied before nodding to him and leaving C&C before he could register what she had said.

TBC


	33. 208 Soul Mates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm quite a few chapters ahead again, so I figured I'd post another one now as a thank you to you, my beautiful loyal readers. Enjoy. :)

_April 2259_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Garibaldi, you look confused and amused, though I'm not sure how that's possible,” Sinclair said to him as he walked into the office.

Sheridan looked up. “It suits him.”

Garibaldi pulled a face. “Who do you two think you are, Abbott and Costello?”

“I'm offended. I thought we were more like Rebo and Zooty,” Sheridan replied.

Sinclair grimaced. “Now _I'm_ offended. What is it, Chief?”

“I just ran into Vir in the customs area. Seems he was waiting for Londo's wives,” he said with a smile. “I normally feel sorry for Vir, but today, I feel really sorry for him.”

“That bad?” Sinclair asked.

“I only saw one of them, but I'm going to guess they're the reason Londo is all the way out here.”

Sheridan seemed interested. “How many wives does he have?”

“Three, arranged marriages,” Sinclair replied, and when the other Captain raised his eyebrows in question, he just shrugged. “We had the time to chat some last year.” He turned back to Garibaldi. “That takes care of your amusement. Why are you confused?”

“There was a guy who came off the transport. There was some kind of altercation with another guy in customs and it looked like it could break out into a fight. The next thing, this guy just walks off like nothing happened. The first guy just smirked and went in the other direction.”

“Sounds nothing more than a misunderstanding to me,” Sheridan said, returning his attention to his paperwork.

But Sinclair had known Garibaldi a lot longer and knew that the security chief wouldn't have brought up something like that if he didn't feel it was important. “Was there anything else about the incident?”

Garibaldi shook his head. “Just a gut feeling that something wasn't right with this guy.”

Sinclair had learnt a long time ago to trust his friend's gut feelings as well. “Did you identify him?”

Sheridan had looked up again, curious at the ongoing exchange, but his gaze shifted as someone entered the room. “Ah, Ms Winters, thank you for coming.”

“I'm happy to help,” she replied with a smile. “How are you settling in, Captain?”

“Oh, fine, thank you,” he said, clearly thrown off balance by the question.

“It seems he's a trader named Stoner,” Garibaldi said, addressing Sinclair as he answered his question.

Talia's attention snapped from Sheridan to the other two men. “Stoner? As in Matt Stoner?”

All three officers looked surprised and Garibaldi nodded. “Yes, Matthew Stoner.” Then he frowned. “You know him?”

“Only in the worst possible way.” At their expectant gazes, Talia continued. “We were married once.”

There was a level of utter silence in the room as each man contemplated that piece of information and what it meant, not only to Talia but to them with regards to her. As the quietness stretched, she suddenly excused herself and walked out, leaving the others to stare at her.

“Maybe one of us should go after her, make sure she's alright,” Sheridan suggested, his concern obvious.

“I'll go,” Garibaldi volunteered, moving towards the doorway.

But Sinclair stood, his face lined with worry. “No, Michael. I'll go.”

It was surprisingly easy to find Talia, in the museum of all places, and he stopped for a moment to observe her. To anyone else, she seemed calm and relaxed, but he knew her well enough to recognise the tightness in her shoulders, and the way her hand were clasped so rigidly behind her back.

She stiffened as he approached, obviously sensing him nearing, and she spoke without turning. “It's none of your concern, Captain,” she snapped.

“I'm not here as the Captain, I'm here as your friend,” Sinclair replied, his deep voice rumbling softly.

Talia turned, surprise etched on her face. “I'm sorry, I thought you were Captain Sheridan.”

That startled him; how was it possible to confuse a telepath? Unless it was simply her distressed state that was causing some 'haze' to her telepathic ability. Sinclair admitted to himself that he didn't know enough about telepathy to understand how it worked, but he filed the piece of information away for later scrutiny.

“You left the office in a hurry. I know you're not alright. Do you want to talk about?” he asked gently.

Talia regarded him for a moment, then smiled. “Thank you.” They started to walk slowly around the museum. “Matt Stoner was one of my trainers in the Psi Corps. He was a charming figure who helped me a lot with my gift, and I suppose you could say I had a crush on him.” She paused by an old electric guitar, running her gloved fingers over the strings and tilting her head to listen to the sound they produced. “Our marriage was arranged by the Psi Corps as they decided that we were genetically compatible and the odds of us producing a child with telepathic abilities was increased.” She spoke flatly, with a trace of bitterness. “It didn't take long for me to start regretting it, but I knew there was no way out of it. Then one day, Matt simply left and the Corps had the marriage annulled.”

Sinclair frowned and finally spoke after a lengthy silence. “I thought no one left Psi Corps, unless it's feet first” he mused.

Talia smiled again at his gallows humour. “You don't, but he did, and he's obviously still breathing. Unfortunately,” she added quietly.

Sinclair smiled back. “And you haven't seen him since then?”

She shook her head. “No. And I never wanted to really. But now....”

“Stirring up old feelings?”

“Not exactly. I just want to know how he did it, how he managed to leave the Corps,” Talia admitted.

“I think there might be a list of people wanting to know the same thing,” Sinclair told her solemnly. “Starting with those right here on the station.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova paused outside Delenn's quarters, wondering why she had received such urgent summons, and why it had been her presence the ambassador requested – or perhaps 'demanded' would have been a better word to use – instead of one of the Captains, Sinclair at the very least. It seemed odd, and yet not. Although their time spent together had been limited, Ivanova was fond of the Minbari ambassador, and the feeling seemed to be mutual. Perhaps it was because they were both strong women surrounded by men; although Ivanova knew Talia was around as well, she didn't count her in the equation. Out of all the ambassadors and officers, there was only really Delenn who was on a similar 'level', Ivanova reasoned, though she didn't like her own choice of words. It was natural the two of them would connect. Yet she knew, on a deeper level, there was something more than that, something which fate had yet to reveal.

_“Yes?”_ Delenn's voice snapped over the intercom as Ivanova pressed the chime.

The Commander took a step back and raised her eyebrows. Impatience such as that was something she had never heard from the Minbari. “It's Commander Ivanova, Ambassador. You sent for me?”

_“Are you alone?”_ Delenn asked, her voice suddenly hushed and...afraid? Embarrassed? Ivanova couldn't decide.

“Yes,” she replied, trying to hide her amusement over the question. Of course she was alone; she had even missed the meeting with the Captains and Garibaldi to come to the ambassador's rescue, and it wasn't like she would have brought one of them with her anyway.

_“Come in,_ quickly,” Delenn's voice urged her as the door open.

Ivanova obeyed, curious as to what the problem was. And then she saw. Delenn's hair was knotted, matted and sticking out in various directions; to use an old Earth term, it looked like a bird's nest, and Ivanova immediately understood why she hadn't wanted anyone else to see her.

“What happened?” she couldn't help but asked.

“This...this... _this_ ,” Delenn said, tugging and pointing at her hair, “Refuses to cooperate.” Her hands dropped to her sides. “Please...can you help?”

Ivanova sighed and walked forwards, touching the Minbari's hair hesitantly, and then she frowned. “It's very brittle. What have you been using to wash it with?”

Delenn's expression, more than the conversation that followed, told Ivanova all she needed to know about what disaster had befallen the Minbari's new acquisition. And despite her best attempts to sidle out of the situation, the Commander ended up telling C&C to inform the Captains that she would be unavailable for quite some time.

There was relative silence as Ivanova set about her task, with Delenn asking or answering the odd question, and making observations. It seemed strange to be educating someone one how to look after themselves, and Ivanova found herself feeling suddenly very maternal, something which she tried very hard to shake off very quickly. Once the hair was washed, she set about brushing it, long soothing strokes, remember how her mother had done the same with her.

“This is quite relaxing.”

Ivanova nodded, then realised Delenn couldn't see her. “I have always thought so. My mother used to do my hair for me, but after she died....” She trailed off. “Sometimes I think it would be nice to have someone brush my hair occasionally, even now.

“You could ask Captain Sinclair,” she suggested. “I am sure he would be happy to help.” Ivanova remained silent and Delenn wondered if she had overstepped a boundary. With some hesitation, she chose her next words with care. “Jeff likes my new appearance.” It was said in a shy, girlish voice, almost as though she was surprised with him approval.

And despite her best efforts, Ivanova felt a tendril of jealous surge in her chest, blossoming slowly into the ugliest of emotions. “I'm sure he liked the way you looked before just as much,” she managed to say.

Delenn surprised her then by facing her and laying a hand on her arm. “Do not worry, Susan. You have nothing to fear from me. I value Jeffrey Sinclair greatly as a human being and a friend, but nothing more. And even if I did, he only has eyes for you.” She paused. “You must know this.”

Ivanova's first reaction was to deny everything, to pretend she didn't know what the ambassador was going on about, but she also realised that would be foolish. Though Delenn would respect the lie, understanding where it had come from, she would appreciate the truth even more. “I'm not entirely sure what is between me and Jeff,” she admitted. “I'm not sure what our careers will allow us to be. But yes, I'm starting to believe exactly what you have said.”

The Minbari's smile was like the sun coming up, radiate and full of warmth and love, and Ivanova found herself smiling back. “Good. Good,” she repeated, then lifted her hand to her hair. “Now, do you think this will have a...happy ending, Commander?”

“I'm absolutely positive it will, Ambassador.”

“We will see,” she replied sceptically, but Ivanova knew she was only teasing and resumed her therapeutic and methodical brushing.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“I asked Garibaldi to do some further digging on this Matthew Stoner,” Sheridan told Sinclair as the two of them walked through the station. “I also asked him to make sure he doesn't bother Ms Winters. Discreetly, of course.”

Sinclair nodded. “She told me the marriage was annulled when he left Psi Corps.”

The younger Captain's reaction was exactly what he was expecting, especially with his penchant for collecting secrets. “How did he manage that?”

“Talia doesn't know.” His link beeped and he lifted it to his face. “Sinclair.”

_“Captain, I have a message from Commander Ivanova for you and Captain Sheridan.”_

“He's with me. What is it?”

_“She said she will unavailable for the foreseeable future.”_

Sinclair and Sheridan exchanged quirked eyebrows. “Did she say why?”

_“No, sir, but Ambassador Delenn had requested her presence earlier on a...personal matter.”_

“Okay. Thank you.” Sinclair cut the comm link and continued to look at Sheridan. “Go ahead. Ask.”

“I'm not sure I want to know.”

“If it's anything serious, they'll let us know.”

“Of course,” Sheridan agreed, nodding.

“Ah, Captain Sheridan!”

“Ambassador G'Kar,” he greeted the Narn.

G'Kar turned and held his fists to his chest, bowing to the other Captain. “Captain Sinclair.”

Sinclair returned the gesture. “G'Kar.” He was curious as to what the problem was now; in all of his dealings with the Narn ambassador, they had never simply exchanged pleasantries.

The Narn turned his attention back to Sheridan. “I just wanted to see how you were settling in, Captain.”

Sheridan looked frustrated. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

Sinclair knew when to make a strategic exit and that was exactly what he did. “If you'll both excuse me,” he said, and quickly walked away.

G'Kar watched him go, then looked back. “Well, it would be completely unheard of for the commanding officer of the station to disappear suddenly, the rest of us left not knowing whether he would be returning or not. And it would be extremely odd for him then to come back, only to be followed by another officer of the same rank.”

The sarcasm wasn't lost on Sheridan, and he hadn't realised the station's inhabitants were still so unsettled with the change, but he weathered it with a smile. “I can assure you, Ambassador, it was just as confusing for both myself and Captain Sinclair as it was for everyone here.”

Before G'Kar could reply, Londo walked up to them with a huge grin on his face. “Ah, Captain Sheridan! So good to see you out and about. And Ambassador G'Kar, a pleasure to see you as well.”

G'Kar scowled at his arch nemesis, while Sheridan's smile faltered a little. “Ambassador Mollari.”

“And how are we settling in, Captain? All fine, I trust.”

His smile became froze in place. “All fine, Ambassador, thank you.” He paused. “You seem in good spirits today.”

Londo's grin widened, if that was possible. “Ah, it is a wonderful day to be a Centauri, Captain.”

“Excuse me,” G'Kar grumbled, rubbing temples.

“G'Kar, you are looking particularly fit today. Whatever you're doing, keep it up!” As the Narn ambassador hurried away, Londo's expression became one of pure mischievous evil. “I _love_ doing that to him.”

Sheridan's face was still frozen and it was starting to hurt him. “If you'll excuse me, Ambassador, I have a few matters to attend to.”

“Of course! Good day, Captain.” Londo strolled away, hands clasped behind his back, humming to himself. As he neared the transport tube, he saw the familiar figure of Sinclair waiting. “Ah, Captain! How good to see you as well.”

Sinclair turned and smiled back. “Ambassador. You're in a fine mood today.”

“Yes, indeed. A day where I can cause distress to G'Kar is a fine day indeed,” Londo replied.

Sinclair rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “I'm sure there's something more than that.”

The transport arrived and the two of them stepped into it. “You are correct, Captain, and because you are such a good, dear friend, Sinclair, I will tell you. As you are no doubt aware, tomorrow is the thirtieth anniversary of my Day of Ascension, a most significant event for a Centauri.”

“Yes, I'm aware, though I hadn't realised yours was tomorrow.”

“You will when you receive an invitation to the party later,” Londo replied with a wave of his hand. “Recently I was granted an audience with the Emperor, who wanted to give me something on this auspicious occasion; he promised to give me any one wish I could ask of him that was within his power to grant.”

“That's quite a gift,” Sinclair replied, impressed. “So what did you ask him?”

“A divorce, from all three of my wives!” Londo replied in a fierce voice, still grinning.

Sinclair knew about his arranged marriages from the time they spent rescuing his dancer, Adira. And while he knew the Centauri ambassador was prone to a certain amount of exaggeration, the Captain also remembered Garibaldi's words from earlier, about feeling sorry for Vir greeting the wives. Somehow, he felt that Londo's request was probably justified.

“I cannot wait to see the faces of my adoring wives when I tell them the sad news,” he continued, his tone a mixture of sarcasm, mock-sadness, and pure joy.

“I'm surprised he granted a divorce from all three,” Sinclair said, somewhat familiar with Centauri etiquette, especially for those in positions of power, of which Londo certainly was now.

The ambassador wagged a finger at him. “Ah, Sinclair, you are an intelligent fellow. You are most correct, though. The Emperor asked me to keep on of my wives to accompany me during important events. One does not say no to the Emperor.”

Sinclair nodded in agreement. “Have you decided which one you'll keep?”

“No. I think I will let them decide amongst themselves. It will be fun, yes?”

“Do I need to alert security?” the Captain asked, joking.

“I am not sure that even Mr Garibaldi is brave enough to stand up to Pestilence, Famine and Death,” Londo replied.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova lazily pulled her hair out of her jacket before zipping it up, her moves slower than usual. It had taken a good part of her day sorting out Delenn's hair and while it hadn't been something she would have expected in her job description, she had actually enjoyed it. And she found herself giving serious consideration to the ambassador's suggestion about asking someone else to brush her hair for her on occasion. As an exercise in objective thinking, Ivanova made a list of those she would trust to do such a thing, and really, there was only the senior staff members on there. Not surprising, in more ways than one; she trusted them because they served together, but she also saw them more as brothers.

Sheridan could possibly be called upon for the job in the future, when he had settled more in himself. He was definitely the oldest brother type, protective of his family but not adverse to getting everyone in trouble at times. He'd also give Ivanova almost anything she asked for, just to keep her happy, and if brushing her hair was what she wanted, that would be what he would do. Her instincts also told her that he would like the practice for the future.

Garibaldi would laugh at the suggestion, but attempt it for her. Annoying older brother was definitely the correct label for the security chief, though she imagined he would treat such a task with great care and dedication. Of course it would probably come at the cost of a favour; no doubt she would have to watch Daffy Duck while having her hair brushed, but she was certain she could endure such a hardship.

Franklin would probably treat it like a problem to be solved, executing each move with the same precision he employed in his work. She always thought of him as either an equal or younger brother, as he still showed great naivety at times. She didn't know whether he would be uncomfortable with what she asked, or whether he would enjoy the task, pleased at being asked. She imagined he would treat it like a sleepover party he probably never got as a child, though maybe he would refuse her, as she knew he grew up with sisters.

And then there was Sinclair.

Sinclair was...stood right in front of her. Smiling. And just like that, just as it seemed to do more and more lately, the world shrunk until there was just him. “Captain. I was just....” Ivanova stopped. What was she going to say? 'I was just thinking about you'? And how would that sound?

“Yes?” Sinclair prompted, stepping closer.

Ivanova thought about some of the conversations she and Delenn had had that day, and she stepped forward too. “I was just thinking about you,” she said, then winced. She hadn't planned on being so truthful.

His eyebrows shot straight up, but he also grinned like a lunatic. “Really?”

Ivanova rolled her eyes at him. “I'm sorry I've been absent today. What did I miss?”

Briefly he filled her in on Stoner's appearance on the station, Garibaldi's suspicions about him, and his connection to Talia. He had to assure Ivanova that she was okay, but the Commander silently made a note to see the telepath at the earliest opportunity to make sure for herself. She then told him what she had been doing for most of the day, much to his fond amusement; she omitted the conversations, though.

“So Garibaldi can't find anything out of the ordinary on Stoner?” she asked as they walked.

Sinclair shook his head. “No and it's frustrating him no end.”

“I can imagine.”

“Oh, and Londo's three wives are here as well, for his Ascension Day party tomorrow.”

“That should be interesting at least,” Ivanova remarked dryly. “I wonder if it will be anything like his demonstration of Centauri religious ceremonies.”

It was an innocent enough remark, but as soon as the words left her mouth, Ivanova regretted them. While the few days covering the various ceremonies had actually been quite enjoyable, it also marked the arrival of Catherine back into Sinclair's life, a fact he was clearly aware of and remembering now. And though she couldn't help herself, Ivanova studied his face, looking for any hint that he was still carrying a torch for her.

“I hope not,” he replied eventually. “I can only handle one of those in a lifetime.”

Ivanova smiled but it was brittle. “Captain, I wanted to ask something, but...it might not be appropriate.”

“I haven't heard from Catherine at all since last year, which I told you about,” Sinclair said immediately. “And I don't miss her. If anything, I feel...free. I did after she left and I still do. Nothing has changed.” With those last three words, his voice dropped, becoming deeper and more intimate.

Ivanova shivered. That hadn't been what she was going to ask, but she was grateful for the clarification nonetheless. “Good to know,” she told him with the special smile she reserved just for him.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan walked slowly, willing his mind to be distracted by the happenings and bustle around him. Despite being told that there was nothing to worry about regarding Ivanova's absence, he couldn't help it. He was growing fond of his Commander, but more than that, he wanted to know why she was helping Delenn. He was trying not to resent the Minbari and their damned secrets, but it was hard. 

And then there was the appearance of Stoner. Sheridan admitted he was more curious as to how the man managed to leave Psi Corps alive than the reason he was on the station. Of course he was concerned for Talia's safety, especially after the incident with Horn a few weeks before. But with Garibaldi, Sinclair and now probably Ivanova looking out for her, he didn't feel the need to show any particular protectiveness. And though he was trying to trust Garibaldi's instincts over Stoner, the security chief had yet to turn up anything incriminating on the man; in fact Stoner was so clean it was like he had been laundered. Perhaps that was the reason Garibaldi was so suspicious of him.

“Excuse me.” Sheridan turned to see a stunning young Centauri woman stood next to him, looking lost. “I seem to have become separated from my tour,” Mariel said, her tone one of innocent damsel in distress, her eyes wide.

Sheridan stopped and smiled. “You're one of Ambassador Mollari's wives, am I right?”

She unleashed a devastating smile on him. “I am. And you are...?”

“Captain John Sheridan.”

“Charmed,” she said, holding her hand out to him.

“Ah, Mariel, making friends are we?” Londo said in a voice laced with sarcasm as he approached them. “Captain, a word, please.” And with that, he lead Sheridan away from his young wife.

“Yes, Ambassador?” the Captain asked almost impatiently. It wasn't very often any beautiful woman wanted to talk to him, but when he received the attention of two in a matter of weeks, he wasn't about to let the experience be taken away from him.

“I should have warned you about Mariel, I'm sorry.”

Sheridan tried not to bristle but it was difficult. It wasn't like he was some wet-behind-the-ears cadet who didn't know any better. Still, his tried to remain diplomatic. “Warn me about what?”

Londo eyes shifted sideways to glare at the trio of Centauri women who all looked like they would rather be anywhere else than on the station or in each other's company. “Mariel is drawn to men of power. She cannot help herself. She is like...what are those Earth creatures, which are drawn to flames?”

“Moths.”

“She is like a moth, but trust me, she burns them,” Londo said very seriously, then he patted Sheridan on the arm. “We'll talk more later.”

“Will you be talking with Captain Sinclair as well?”

Londo stared at him as though he had turned in G'Kar right before his eyes. “No, of course not.” Sheridan allowed himself a smug moment, which was promptly shattered when the ambassador continued with, “He's far too sensible to allow himself to be ensnared so easily.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova pressed the chimes for Talia's quarters, then stood back and waited. She had wanted to visit the telepath the previous day, after Sinclair had told her about the appearance of Stoner, but as she had been tied up with Delenn for so long, she had other duties to catch up on and when she finally finished her work, she was exhausted. But she decided to make the effort to talk to Talia before she had even had breakfast, a rare occurrence of her.

_“Yes?”_

“It's Commander Ivanova, Ms Winters,” Ivanova replied. Even though they had almost reached a first name basis, they were still respectful when working.

The door opened and she stepped into the telepath's quarters. “Yes, Commander, what can I do for you?” Talia asked, her tone almost abrupt.

Ivanova was slightly taken aback but tried not to let it show. “I heard about Stoner....”

She never got any further than that because Talia laughed. Now Ivanova was shocked and it showed. “And what exactly have you heard about Matt?” the telepath asked. “What lies has Mr Garibaldi been spreading?”

“We're just concerned...,” Ivanova tried again, but again she was cut off.

“I told Mr Garibaldi yesterday and now I'm telling you, I don't need your concern, your pity or your help. It's none of your business,” she said hotly. Then she stopped and seemed to collect herself. “Look, I don't want to leave things on a sour note.”

“Leave things?”

“Yes. I'll be leaving with Matt.” Talia's face softened and she looked more like the woman Ivanova knew. “He's promised me a way to...to rid myself of my telepathy. He said that's what happened to him after some experimentation by the Psi Corps, and he's sure he can replicate the procedure for me.”

“Is that what you want?” Ivanova couldn't help but ask, her tone surprised.

“You don't know what it's like, Commander, to hear everybody's thoughts, everybody's hopes, dreams, wishes, their anger, their rage. For you, the inside of your mind is the safest place to be, a place where no one can find you. But for a telepath, sometimes your own mind can be a prison. And I'm tired of it.”

“Then I wish you all the best,” Ivanova said stiffly, turning and walking out.

The whole conversation had unsettled her more than she would care to admit. She had thought that she knew Talia, thought that they had started to develop a good friendship, especially after the Abel Horn incident the month before. Had she been wrong all along?

A short while later, Garibaldi walked into the mess hall looking as tired as Ivanova felt and after grabbing a tray of food, he came over to her table. “Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all.”

“So what's eating you today?” he asked as he pushed his food around his plate.

Ivanova studied him. “I'm going to guess the same thing that's bothering you. Matt Stoner and Ms Winters.”

Garibaldi nodded, unsurprised that she knew. “I spoke to Talia yesterday, told her that I'd warned Stoner to steer clear of her. And she chewed my head off! When this guy came on board and she found out, she looked the complete opposite of happy, and now....” He shrugged.

“I went to see her this morning,” Ivanova told him. “Just to make sure she was alright. And she was abrupt, even rude, and dismissive. And to be honest, Michael, it didn't seem like her at all.” She paused as she sipped her coffee. “She also told me she was leaving with Stoner.”

“She told me the same.” Garibaldi sighed. “I think this guy is dirty, somehow. I just can't find anything on him. I think he's controlling people, controlling her...somehow. I just wish I knew for sure!” he said in exasperation.

“You think he still has his telepathic abilities?”

“I don't know. He's definitely got something.” The security chief looked at Ivanova for a long moment. “Talia's decision to leave with Stoner, leave Psi Corps...does that track with you?”

It was something Ivanova had thought about long and hard over breakfast, and she had already reached her answer. “Yes, actually, it does. Maybe not so much going with Stoner, but leaving the Corps?” She nodded. “I can see how that would appeal to her.”

“Really?” Garibaldi's tone of voice clearly said he wanted answers.

But Ivanova shook her head. “If you want anything else, you'll have to ask Ms Winters. My lips are sealed.”

He made a non-committal noise but respected her enough not to push the matter. Instead, he stuffed the last of his breakfast into his mouth and stood. “I've got to go. See you later?” At Ivanova's confused look, he clarified, “Londo's party.”

Ivanova nodded then and managed a smile for him. “I'll be there.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair hadn't seen Ivanova all day and while it wasn't all that unusual, some sixth sense told him something was wrong. Not necessarily that she was in danger, but he felt that she was upset over something. Now he found himself waiting impatiently at Londo's party, flexing his bare toes against the floor, trying not to tug at his dress uniform.

“Captain,” Franklin greeted him as he came to a stop by his side. “I hope you don't mind the observation but you seem a little on edge.”

“I just hope everything goes smoothly, that's all,” he replied with an easy smile.

“Oh, I'm sure it will.” When it became clear that there would be no more conversation, Franklin politely excused himself and left Sinclair to his silent vigil of the entrance to the room. The doctor concealed a smile, knowing full well what – or more appropriately who – the Captain was preoccupied with.

But then he saw Garibaldi and Sheridan in separate places in the room, and both men looked as though their minds were elsewhere, though Sheridan was doing a better job of hiding it and mingling with the guests. Franklin shook his head. As usual, it seemed as though he was missing something. Sometimes he hated being stuck in med lab.

Sheridan was glancing around the room as he spoke to various people, keeping an eye on what was happening, but also because he didn't want to miss Delenn turning up. She was late, which was unusual for her. But then, so was Ivanova, and intuition told him they were together. Then he saw Sinclair stood off to one side looking agitated, and politely excusing himself, he wandered over.

“Captain.”

“Captain,” Sinclair replied, barely glancing at him.

“The ladies seem to be running behind schedule,” Sheridan said casually.

The older Captain turned then to read his counterpart's expression, but Sheridan gave nothing away that he knew of Sinclair's feelings for Ivanova. In fact, it seemed an innocent remark made to cover his own impatience at Delenn's absence, and Sinclair found himself smiling.

“I'm sure they have a good reason for it,” he replied.

Sheridan nodded and opened his mouth to say something when he saw Ivanova and Delenn coming down the hallway. His jaw sagged and he was so caught up in the moment that he failed to see Sinclair's expression was almost identical. From across the room, Garibaldi and Franklin had drifted together and were now both shaking their heads in faint amusement. But as the doctor turned to speak to his friend, he noticed sadness on the security chief's face as well, and knowing Garibaldi would probably be unwilling to share his troubles, he slipped away to allow him his privacy.

Ivanova and Delenn didn't notice the effect they were having on the two Captains, too busy enjoying each other's company. As they entered the room, they paused, both sending sweeping gazes around. Delenn touched Ivanova's arm and excused herself, gliding over to speak to Garibaldi, who suddenly looked just as dazzled by her presence as the Captains did.

It was only when Ivanova approached Sinclair and Sheridan, and saw their dazed expressions, that she realised something was wrong. “Captain? And...Captain?” she asked, amused by the way she had to address them.

“Commander, you look...exceptional tonight,” Sheridan told her truthfully, a boyish grin gracing his face.

With that simple, heartfelt compliment, Ivanova felt more like a woman instead of an officer and a soldier, and she blushed a little, smiling back. “Thank you, Captain. You don't clean up so bad yourself.”

If possible, Sheridan's grin grew, and Sinclair found himself smiling instead of feeling jealous as he might have done. Then Ivanova turned to look at him, and for a moment they didn't speak, not with words anyway; their eyes did all the communicating. He thought she looked like a vision of heaven; she wanted to kiss whoever had designed the new dress uniforms. And both thought the other had never looked so perfect. Sheridan was once again oblivious to their interaction; his eyes were drawn to Delenn, who was making a beeline for him.

“Ambassador,” he greeted her, wanting to compliment her but unsure how to go about it.

Apparently, though, he didn't need to say anything; Delenn interpreted the expression on his face perfectly well and she ducked her head a little at him shyly. “Captain.”

Garibaldi rolled his eyes from his position at the other side of the room. “Oh boy.”

“Ah, my good, dear friends!” Londo called loudly as he approached the small group. “Captain Sinclair, Captain Sheridan. Looking very dapper, I must say. Ambassador Delenn, most delightful indeed. Commander Ivanova...would you cause me bodily harm if I were to pay you a sincere compliment?”

Sinclair, Sheridan and Delenn tried to hide their smiles and amusement, with varying degrees of success. A small Centauri woman walked past them and muttered, “I would.”

“Timov, my love,” Londo identified her. “Ambassador G'Kar! So good of you to join us.”

G'Kar walked up eating from a plate of food. “Mollari.”

Delenn looked down at his booted feet. “Did you know the guests of the party are supposed to be barefoot?” she asked, and immediately regretted it when he smirked. Of course the Narn ambassador knew.

“Yes, but I hoped to cause great insult by turning up thus.” He gestured to his covered feet. “Call it my gift, Mollari. Are you insulted?”

“Not at all, my good, dear Narn friend,” Londo replied with a large smile. G'Kar stared at him, horrified, then quickly hurried away, rubbing his temples. “I _love_ doing that to him.”

“Ambassador Mollari seems in an exceptionally good mood, considering his wives are all here,” Ivanova noted to Sinclair moments later when they found themselves alone. Sheridan and Delenn had wandered off to mingle, and Londo was making a start on opening his gifts.

“Hmm.”

“You know why, don't you.”

Sinclair smiled. “I might.” He looked over her shoulder and continued before she could speak. “Looks like we need to be over there.”

It was enjoyable watching Londo open his presents, watching him act graciously no matter what he was given. Up until an old Centauri statue – a gift from his wives – shot him in the head.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“...And Stoner was completely calm the whole time,” Garibaldi said as he paced the office. “I mean, I've dealt with cool customers but this guy is something else.”

“Maybe you're losing your touch, Michael. Maybe you're just not scary enough any more,” Sinclair told him with a smile, hoping to ease the tension that was all but radiating off his friend.

Garibaldi clenched and unclenched his fists a few times, then seemed to relax. “Maybe I should send you in next time,” he replied.

“How did he react to Sheridan?”

“The same. It's like nothing fazes this guy.”

“Something has to, Chief. Everyone has an Achilles heel.”

Garibaldi nodded in agreement, stopping to perch on the desk. “Sheridan and I both think he has an ace up his sleeve. We just don't know what.” He stood up suddenly. “I'm going to keep at this until I find something.”

“Just tread carefully, Michael. I mean it,” Sinclair said seriously.

“Will do.”

As soon as he left, Sinclair pushed himself out of the chair and walked over to the sofas, loosening his jacket and shirt collar before sitting down heavily. He didn't know how Sheridan did it. Despite the small age gap between them, Sinclair felt decades older, and the weariness that sometimes blanketed him had once again appeared. He couldn't put his finger on what was causing it or why it had appeared, he just knew it was there, and nothing short of sleeping for a month would cure it.

He heard someone walking into the office, but didn't open his eyes. He followed their progress across the room and smiled when fingers brushed his temples, urging him to lean his head back against the sofa. As he did so, he felt pressure being applied to his head, gentle circles being formed, and he sighed, feeling the tension leaving him.

“Is there a reason for this?”

“No.”

“Would you tell me if there was?” Ivanova was aware it was a bold question, but she felt compelled to ask.

Sinclair caught her hands and brought them round to his lips, kissing the knuckles gently. “Of course, if I could. And in time, I will tell you everything.” He tugged, bringing her around to sit next to him. “How's Londo?”

Ivanova sighed. “Not good. Whatever he was hit with has caused his metabolism to increase exponentially. Stephen says he's burning up from the inside out and only a massive blood transfusion will save him. Unfortunately, he doesn't have enough of Londo's blood type on the station, and apparently we've never had any luck in producing artificial Centauri blood.”

“Damn.” Sinclair ran a hand over his face, knowing how the problem would be affecting the young doctor. “Is there nothing we can do?”

“Pray,” Ivanova replied quietly. “Has Garibaldi had any luck?”

He shook his head. “He says Stoner is too cool, though. Has Ms Winters mentioned anything else about him?”

Beside him, Ivanova stiffened and he noticed. “No. In fact, she's been defending him.”

“What?”

“You haven't heard?”

“Heard what.”

“Apparently she'll be leaving with him, and leaving the Psi Corps. Stoner has offered her a way out, and a way to lose her telepathic abilities. Permanently,” Ivanova explained.

“What?!” Sinclair exclaimed again, frowning deeply.

“I know. I had this conversation with Garibaldi earlier. It seems she abruptly dismissed his concern as well.”

He turned to face her fully. “Do you have any idea what Stoner's playing at? Any thoughts? Wild theories?”

It pleased her that he thought so highly of her opinion and she took her time before replying. “I believe that he doesn't have his telepathic abilities any more, but I wouldn't rule out any...psychic abilities at all,” Ivanova replied carefully, but with conviction.

“What do you mean?” Sinclair asked.

“Telekinesis, like we saw with Jason Ironheart. Empathy, maybe. I don't know. All I know is that no one leaves the Psi Corps.”

Sinclair sighed. “That's about the only thing anyone knows right now.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Garibaldi caught Sheridan as he was coming out of the bathroom. “Captain, I think I might have figured something out.”

“I'm listening.”

“I'm not sure we can charge Stoner with anything just yet, but I just came back from the brig and Lou told me he'd just given him dinner,” Garibaldi said.

Sheridan stared. “And?”

“Prisoners don't get their meals for another hour and when I pointed that out to Lou, he just seemed surprised. He then said that there was something about Stoner that made you want to like the guy, like whatever he asked for, you wanted to give him,” he explained. The Captain raised his eyebrows. “Yeah, I know.”

“What are you thinking?”

“Send in Talia and a guard, get her to tell him she's changed her mind and see what he does.”

“What makes you think she'll go along with this idea? How do you know that she doesn't want to go with Stoner?” Sheridan asked him.

“Call it instinct,” Garibaldi replied. “Look, if I ask her and she refuses, I'll just have to think of something else.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

It was late and the mess hall was empty except for five people crowded around one small table. There were no trays of food in front of them, just mugs of coffee. “So, you'll never guess what Psi Corps experiments turned this guy into,” Garibaldi was saying.

“An empath?” Sinclair asked.

Garibaldi stared at him. “How the hell did you know that?”

“Instinct,” he replied, risking a wink at Ivanova when he thought no one was looking.

Franklin leant forward, fascinated. “An empath? As in he could sense other peoples emotions or influence them?”

“I think in this sense, an empath is someone who is capable of compelling others to do what they want,” Sheridan explained, then he looked around the table. “I find it funny that the moment we decided to charge him with a crime, Psi Corps came to his rescue.”

“I thought you didn't have enough evidence to charge him,” Ivanova said to Garibaldi.

The security chief smirked. “I didn't, I just wanted to see what Psi Corps would do.”

“Sneaky, Mr Garibaldi. I approve.” She knocked her mug against his.

Sinclair looked at Franklin. “How is Ambassador Mollari doing?”

“Much better. He'll make a full recover,” the doctor replied.

“How did you get enough blood for a transfusion?” Sheridan asked.

Franklin looked around and shrugged. “Well, I suppose it will do no harm to tell you now. It was one of his wives, Timov. The one he decided to keep. She said she didn't want Londo knowing she had helped him.”

“Maybe he knew anyway,” Ivanova suggested.

Sinclair nodded his agreement. “That would explain why he chose to keep her and not one of the others.”

“So, why was Stoner here on the station?” Franklin asked after a short silence.

“We think that Psi Corps retained him unofficially and sent him to Babylon 5 to persuade Talia to go back with him,” Garibaldi. “The Corps paired them to be married as their paired DNA carried a greater chance of them producing a child with telepathic abilities. And they still felt that was possible, only now I'm guessing they hoped to breed more empaths.”

Franklin shook his head. “And how did Ms Winters take that?”

“Stoner still tried to get her to go with him, without his empathic abilities,” Sheridan explained. “She turned him down flat. I don't think she'll ever forgive him without forceful persuasion.”

“And what about Stoner?”

“Psi Corps insisted he be turned over to them,” Sheridan replied.

“At least we got one thing right all along,” Ivanova said and waited until all eyes turned to her. “No one ever leaves the Psi Corps unless it's feet first.”

Sinclair smiled at her. “True. In fact, I'd say that was another good day's work from everyone.” He lifted his mug.

“I'll drink to that,” Sheridan agreed instantly, raising his own cup.

The others followed suit, silently saluting each other.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

They had spent longer than any of them expected to in the mess hall, just enjoying each others company, and it was late when they finally split and headed in separate directions. And despite the fact that her shift had ended some time ago, Ivanova found herself finishing up several reports and other tasks before starting towards her quarters.

As she walked down the main corridor, she saw Delenn heading towards her and smiled despite her weariness. “Ambassador.”

“Commander. I just wished to thank you once more for your help with the recent...crisis. I had no idea human bodies required such...care.”

Ivanova tried not to let her smile grow. “It takes some getting used to, but I'm sure you'll do just fine. And if ever need any help, you know where to find me.”

“There is one thing. Or perhaps two. I would like for you to call me Delenn,” the Minbari told her.

“If you wish,” she replied, both surprised and pleased.

“I do.” And it was said in the tone that meant any arguing would not be tolerated.

“What was the second thing?”

“Can you tell me why I suddenly have these odd cramps?” Delenn asked with a frown as they stepped into the transport tube.

Ivanova's eyes widened and she let out a discreet sigh. By the time the two women reached their destination, her face was bright red, and Delenn seemed more confused than ever. “Perhaps you would be better talking to Dr Franklin about some things,” the Commander said as they came to a stop. “Especially things like this. I know he is a man, but is also a doctor and is used to dealing with such...things.”

Delenn was about to object but then she saw how uncomfortable she had made the young officer. “I will keep that in mind. Thank, Commander.”

“Susan,” Ivanova replied. “You may call me Susan.”

Delenn beamed. “Thank you. Now, will you tell me what is bothering you?”

“I was...upset by Ms Winters' behaviour in recent events and although I know it wasn't her fault, it's difficult to move on.”

“Have you spoken to her about this?”

Ivanova nodded. “We have and she apologised, it's just.... Our friendship was in its infancy and I'm not sure it can recover from this.”

Delenn regarded her carefully. “Do you want it to?”

“I don't know,” she replied honestly.

“Until you know the answer to that question, nothing will change,” Delenn told her. “And the second thing 'on your mind', as you humans say?”

Ivanova smiled and shook her head. “How did you know there was something else?”

“Instinct.”

“I was thinking about our conversation regarding hair brushing.”

“You want to ask someone.”

“Yes.”

Delenn hesitated. “Do you want me to...try?”

Ivanova's smile grew. “Thank you but no. I wanted to ask...someone else, I'm just not sure how to.”

“I'm sure that if you cannot find the words to express yourself, you will find another way which will be understand,” she said, respecting the Commander's wish for privacy over who she was talking about.

“It still scares me,” Ivanova admitted.

“Yes. A lot of things in life can cause us fear. But you are a warrior, Susan. You will not allow that fear to rule you,” Delenn told her. Then she smiled. “Good day, Commander.”

Ivanova stopped and watched her go, then altered her direction. She made a quick stop at her own quarters to change clothes and pick up a couple of items. Then she made her way down the corridor to her final destination, for a time at least.

“Come,” a deep voice said when she hit the chimes.

Taking a breath, Ivanova stepped into Sinclair's quarters. He was dressed in his usual old flying jersey and faded trousers, lounging in his armchair. He made to rise when he saw her, but she held her hand up, silently telling him it was okay to stay where he was.

“Do you remember before when I said I wanted to ask you something? You replied by telling me you were over Catherine. I wasn't going to ask about her, Jeff,” Ivanova said, speaking plainly even for her. “I wanted to ask...a favor, and one you might find stupid.”

“Never,” Sinclair replied, smiling at her.

“When I was younger, my mother used to spend a lot of time on my hair. And now....” She shrugged. “I wondered...that is, if you don't mind...if you would....”

Ivanova never thought Sinclair's face could look so joyful as it did in that moment. He beamed at her, positively radiating happiness, and he sat up straighter in his chair. “Sit,” he told her, pointing to the floor between his knees. As she did so, smiling back at him, he asked, “Hairbrush?”

She handed the item up to him as she got comfortable, willing her shoulders to relax. Then he started with the first gentle, long stroke, and she made a mental note to thank Delenn for her advice when she saw her next.

TBC


	34. 209 The Coming of the Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, another update. And I just want to point out that really, I have no idea what I'm doing. I have a very broad idea where this story is going, but when it comes down to chapter by chapter writing...yeah, I'm winging it. And still not beta'ring it. ;)

_April 2259_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair was surprised to see Sheridan leant back in the chair at the desk with his eyes closed when he entered the office, though the expression on the younger Captain's face was anything but calm. “Don't tell me we've managed to get ourselves into a situation so early in the day,” he remarked quietly.

Sheridan opened one eye and glared at him. “You shouldn't be so surprised.”

He sat at the other side of the desk and regarded him carefully. “What's happened now?”

“How was your trip?” he countered.

Sinclair detected none of the hostility in Sheridan's tone which had accompanied his questions the last time the older Captain had been requested to aid the Minbari government; he had the feeling that Delenn had been directly involved in soothing Sheridan's ego this time. “Long, diplomatic, boring.”

Sheridan wasn't fooled in the slightest. He knew he was oblivious to a great many things, but there was a change in Sinclair even he couldn't fail to notice. The older Captain had been to Minbar twice now in the last couple of months, and each time he had returned he looked different; more focused, calmer, more poised. There were also subtle changes in his physique which were hard to disguise with a uniform, especially one cut as well as theirs were.

“You're aware of the Centauri Emperor's visit?”

“Yes.”

“What do you think about it?” Sheridan asked curiously.

“I think it's a good thing, though there could problems,” Sinclair replied.

“Problems?”

“Emperor Turhan is in poor health, as I understand it. I'm sure his advisers have protested his visit, and if anything should happen to him while he is here, the diplomatic repercussions could be staggering. Yet I respect him greatly for wanting to make the journey, and I'm sure it will be a historic occasion for everyone.”

Sheridan stared at him. “Is that it?”

Sinclair stared back, trying to understand the problem. “The Narns could be...difficult, if they choose,” he replied, then realisation hit him. “Has G'Kar been protesting?”

“Formally,” Sheridan replied, clearly unhappy. “He insisted the Emperor is a monster and a war criminal because of his family's role in the Centauri occupation of Narn.”

Sinclair frowned. “Did you point out that the Emperor himself wasn't directly involved in any way, and has actually gone out of his way to make reparations to the Narns for the atrocities, all of which have been rejected?”

That got a smile out of the other Captain. “Yes, actually, I did.”

“Did you use words of one syllable or less?”

Sheridan laughed then. “No, I didn't. Maybe that was why I couldn't get through to him.”

“I've told you before, Captain. Let me handle Ambassador G'Kar; you can handle Londo,” Sinclair said.

“And I would have gladly stuck to that agreement if you had been here,” he replied mildly. “But I will remember it for the future.”

“What else did G'Kar say?” Sinclair asked, knowing the Narn would not have let Sheridan have the last word.

“I told him that I sympathised with how he was feeling, but that if the Centauri Emperor wanted to visit, I thought it was great. I tried to encourage him to use the opportunity to open a dialogue with him, for the good of his people.” Sheridan made a face. “I may have used more sarcasm than was necessary.”

“Let me guess; G'Kar dismissed the idea, warned you of what might happen, and stormed off angrily.”

“You really do know him well.”

“G'Kar is predictable. Londo is predictable only so far as he's unpredictable,” Sinclair replied with a smile.

Sheridan leant forwards then, resting his elbows on the desk. “Do you really think G'Kar could cause a problem?”

“I wouldn't put it past him. I'll have a word with Mr Garibaldi, make him aware of the situation. You know how he hates surprises.”

“Oh, I know.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

But before he went in search of the security chief, Sinclair needed to make another stop. And it wasn't the one he wanted to make first, either. But he had learnt things during his most recent trip to Minbar, things that required action sooner rather than later.

“I have been expecting you,” Delenn said with a smile as he entered her quarters.

“I wanted to check in with Captain Sheridan first.”

“I understand. And Commander Ivanova?”

A shadow passed over Sinclair's features. “I'll see her later.”

“You do not like keeping her in the dark, do you.”

“No, I don't.”

Delenn regarded him. “It is your choice who to tell and when.”

“That's not strictly true, Delenn, and we both know it,” Sinclair replied matter-of-factly.

“Perhaps. But I know what you will say, and I happen to agree with you.”

“We need to start filtering the information we have out to our people.”

“Yes. They need to know what is coming.”

“I just haven't come up with a way yet that won't implicate me or you,” Sinclair said.

“Do not concern yourself with me, Jeff,” Delenn replied, smiling. “It would be best if we could arrange for a Ranger to deliver some data to Mr Garibaldi. I believe he is adept in handling sensitive information from questionable sources.”

Sinclair smiled back. “You're right about that. But he'll only use the source if he trusts them.”

“And who would Mr Garibaldi trust from the Rangers?”

“No one, because he doesn't know them.”

“No one?”

“He'd trust me. And you.”

Delenn's expression turned serious. “It is too early to reveal your role to anyone, even Mr Garibaldi. But if he believes the information is coming from me....”

Sinclair was lost in thought for a moment, before he realised Delenn had stopped speaking, and as he turned to look at her, he saw she was actually waiting for his permission to do what she suggested. “One, it's a lie and Minbari don't lie, except to save face for another.”

“And if I cannot save face for you, my dear friend, who can I?”

Sinclair smiled fondly at her. “Thank you. But I don't think Michael will buy it so easily.”

“Buy it?” Delenn repeated, frowning.

“Believe it. He's suspicious by nature, which is why he makes such a good chief of security. If you tell him that you acting on behalf of the Ranger leader, he will know it's me. He knows about my trips to Minbar, and he'll put two and two together quickly.”

“You are correct about Mr Garibaldi's tenacious nature.” Delenn's frown deepened. Then she smiled. “I think I have the perfect solution which will satisfy us all.”

“Which is?” As she told him, Sinclair nodded slowly. “That could work. And knowing Michael, he'll be too polite to question your honour. Not to mention he'd be worried that doing so would be bad for his health.”

Delenn smirked. “Good.”

“So we're agreed?”

“We are.”

Sinclair nodded again and stood. “The courier is here on the station already, though he knows not to make any contact with me at all. He also knows his target is Garibaldi, and that further instructions may well come from you.”

“I will take care of it,” Delenn said, standing as well. Then she stretched her arm forward and touched her fingers to his chest, bowing. “Valen go with you, Entil'zha.”

“And with you, Satai.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova pressed the chimes again to his quarters and started to shift impatiently on her feet. It was possible he wasn't in there, but he should be; she had heard from Garibaldi that Sinclair had spoken to him not long ago, still in his regular uniform, and the Centauri Emperor's ship was due to dock very soon. Ivanova hadn't seen the Captain since he returned to Babylon 5 from his most recent trip to Minbar, and while it had only been a few short days again, she was anxious to see him. She pressed the chimes once more, considering letting herself in regardless of whether he was in there or not, when the door opened without warning. Tugging her dress uniform once more, she stepped inside.

She barely had time to glance around the room when Sinclair stepped into view, framed by the sliding doors of his bedroom. A smile spread across his face, his eyes glowing warmly, when he saw her. “Commander,” he said in a teasing voice.

But Ivanova found she couldn't speak, for he was shirtless. It wasn't the first time she had seen his bare torso, but it wasn't such a regular occurrence that she was used to it. And as it had been a while since she had seen him in such a state of undress, she noticed a difference. He had always been fairly toned, but with a softness that seemed to go with the position of command. Now, however, the muscles were more defined and there was a hardness about his body which definitely wasn't there before, a growing litheness and suppleness when he moved. She was certain that no one else would see the difference, but she did. And now she wished she hadn't because it would haunt her when covered up with his regular uniform; his body would continue to affect her even when she couldn't see it.

“Susan?” Sinclair's voice was soft and full of concern...and coming from right in front of her.

Ivanova had been so lost in her thoughts – or fantasies – that she hadn't seen or heard him move, and suddenly his closeness was overwhelming. The urge to touch him was too great and she realised that her self-control with regards to Sinclair had all but disappeared. “Damn!” she exclaimed, turning quickly away from him.

Sinclair registered her distress instantly, though it took his a second longer to realise why, and he cursed himself for being an idiot. “Susan, I'm sorry. I didn't think. Please believe me, it wasn't intentional.”

He retreated quickly back to his bedroom and hurriedly pulled on his shirt. “How was Minbar?” Ivanova asked eventually.

“The same as before,” he replied, not looking at her. “Boring, though don't tell Delenn I said that. A lot of formalities, ceremonies and meetings.”

“No accidents?”

Her question caught him off guard and Sinclair turned around with a frown on his face to find her looking at him. “None at all.”

“This should be quite an occasion, the Centauri Emperor coming to the station,” she said, all business, but he knew something was still bothering her.

“Yes. I just hope the Narns don't take advantage of the situation.”

It was Ivanova's turn to frown. “You think they might?”

“With the Narns, who knows?” He finished zipping up his jacket and buttoning the collar, taking one last look at himself in the mirror to make sure he looked the part. “Shall we?”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“What did the Emperor want?” Garibaldi asked as he came alongside Franklin.

“To know if I've seen much of Ambassador Kosh,” the doctor replied, frowning. “Though why ask me and not one of the Captains, I don't know.”

“Maybe he thought you were Doctor Kyle.”

Franklin looked at his friend, his eyebrows raised. “I thought no one was supposed to know what happened when Ambassador Kosh first came onboard Babylon 5.”

Garibaldi just shrugged. “They're not. Doesn't mean they don't. Did he say why he was interested in the ambassador?”

“Only that he was intrigued by the strange stories about them, but has never seen one.” They walked a few paces behind the main group, with the Emperor talking quite animatedly to Sheridan and Ivanova. Sinclair, Franklin noticed, stayed a step back. “What do you make of him?”

“Who, the Emperor?” Garibaldi asked. “I don't know. He seems very genuine, not really what I expected. In fact....” He lowered his voice. “...I'd say he seems too honest and nice to be an Emperor. Or a Centauri.”

“It could just be a front. He is a politician, after all.”

“Hey, Doc, I'm supposed to be the suspicious one around here,” Garibaldi said with a smile. “I have to admit, the whole speech commending us for the hard work we've done promoting peace? I buy it.”

Franklin nodded. “So do I.”

“The question is, will G'Kar?”

“Are we likely to have trouble with the Narns?” Franklin asked in concern.

“Anything's possible. But if this whole visit goes off without any hitches at all, I'd be very surprised,” Garibaldi replied.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“We're sure everything's in place of the Emperor reception,” Sheridan said for the fifth time.

Garibaldi resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Yes, sir. I've gone over the security precautions with my staff. They know what they're doing.”

“You told them to watch for anyone suspicious?” Sinclair asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“I mean anyone, Chief. Narn, human or Centauri.”

Garibaldi wondered if Sinclair was telepathic sometimes. He seemed to know things without knowing he knew them; his comment about suspicious humans was probably harmless, but it just so happened the security chief had noticed one of those around the station the last couple of days. The human was dressed in some sort of robes, but not like a religious person; if Garibaldi had to guess, he'd say more like a warrior, though none he had ever seen. And the worst part was, he couldn't shake the feeling the man was following him. Not that he was about to share any of that with any of the senior staff; he had told Lou and Zack, just to cover his back, and that was it.

“Understood, Captain.”

“Has anyone seen Ambassador G'Kar since the Emperor came on board?” Ivanova asked. They were all aware of the potential threat the Narns could pose, and they were also all aware of just how volatile and reckless G'Kar could be, especially if he felt he had nothing to lose or something to prove.

Sinclair shook his head. “I'm not sure he's even left his quarters.”

“If we're lucky, maybe he'll stay there until the Emperor leaves,” Sheridan mused.

“I think it would be better if he came out and at least showed up to the reception,” Franklin said in disagreement. “I mean, this could signal a monumental change for relations between the Narn and the Centauri.”

Sheridan looked impressed. “I agree, Doctor, one hundred percent. In fact, just before coming here, the Emperor was talking to me about regrets. He said his long life had been one of making no choices at all, just doing what was expected of him, and because of that, he has enough regrets to fill the next life. But he wants to make a difference, a real difference, in the time he has left.”

“Did he say how?” Ivanova asked curiously.

Sheridan shook his head. “No, but I think the Narns are going to feature prominently. I think he wants permanent peace between their races, and I'm willing to bet he'll do almost anything to make the Narn government see that.”

“That could be dangerous,” Garibaldi pointed out.

“It could also bring about a peace we haven't known in our lifetime,” Sinclair replied. Then he turned to Sheridan. “Do you want me to talk to G'Kar? See if I can reason with him.”

The other Captain shook his head. “No. I don't want him to think that we're automatically casting him as the bad guy. This is hard enough for him to accept as it is, it's probably best to just leave him be.”

“Well, I think we're as ready as we're ever going to be,” Garibaldi said, standing up from his perch on the arm of the sofa.

“I agree,” Sheridan said, standing as well. “We should head down to the reception.”

“I'll meet you there,” Sinclair told them, then turned to Ivanova. “Commander, a word please.”

His tone was authoritative and even displeased, and the others barely masked their surprise before filing out of the room, leaving them alone. “Captain,” Ivanova said, the one sounding like a question, sounding like a full sentence which he understood.

He took a step towards her, but stopped much further away than normal. It was like he was deliberately keeping his distance and she wondered why. “Susan, I wanted to apologise for earlier.”

“You already did,” she said, cutting him off, her tone sharper than she intended.

Sinclair looked surprised, even hurt. “It's important to me that you understand I didn't intend to make you feel uncomfortable, or to feel like I was pushing you.”

“You didn't.”

“Then what's bothering you?”

Ivanova wished for once that he didn't know her as well as he did. She had thought she had hidden her feelings well, and for everyone else, that might have been true. But not for him. And then she realised that he didn't know she had seen. Taking a deep breath and a step closer to him, she forced a relaxed expression onto her face. “It's nothing, Jeff. Just something that will fix itself in time.”

“That isn't nothing,” Sinclair pointed out gently.

“I will tell you, but later. Maybe much later.”

He thought about that for a moment, then nodded in acceptance. “Fair enough. Are you sure you're alright?”

“I'm fine,” she replied. “What about you?”

“I'll be glad when today is over now,” he said with a small smile.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Garibaldi had detoured from Sheridan and Franklin on their way to the reception. There were a few details he wanted to go over with his men, or at least that was what he told them. In reality, he was tired of being followed and couldn't be sure the man tailing him didn't pose a threat to the Emperor. Luckily for Garibaldi, he knew the station like the back of his hand; the mysterious man did not.

“Move and I'll shoot your head off,” the security chief growled as he pinned the man to a wall after surprising him.

Garibaldi had been right about one thing; the man's reactions and movements were like that of a warrior, though he tried to hide it. “I was sent to find you. I need to talk to you.”

Lou and Zack had appeared, their PPGs drawn, clearly waiting for Garibaldi's signal. “So talk.” The man looked at the other security officers, then back at the chief, and hung his head. “Yeah, that's what I thought.” He holstered his PPG and pulled the man away from the wall, throwing him to Lou and Zack. “Lock him in a cell until after the reception.”

“You're making a mistake!” the man called after him.

“Yeah, well it ain't my first and it won't be my last,” Garibaldi muttered to himself, hurrying so he didn't miss the reception.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

The first thing Sinclair noticed when he entered the room was Sheridan talking animatedly to Delenn and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes, although a smile tugged relentlessly at his lips. “They don't seem overly worried about the image they are projecting,” Ivanova remarked quietly.

He turned to see if there was any kind of rebuke in her expression, because he was sure he detected one her tone. “I'm sure most people will see their relationship for what it is; two people with similar interests and overlapping professions who enjoy each other's company. Nothing more than that.”

“Is that all it is, Captain?”

Sinclair wondered if she was still talking about Sheridan and Delenn, or themselves. “Innocent until proven guilty,” he said, then pulled a face. “I didn't mean it like that, I just....”

Ivanova finally took pity on him and smiled. “I know how you meant it, Jeff,” she told him, her voice low and the use of his given name in such a public area make goose flesh spread across his body. “Personally, I think it's nice.”

“You do?”

She nodded. “I know Sheridan never got over the death of his wife. I think he just buried himself in work, and being on a ship, it was easy to do that. But here....”

“Lines become blurred,” Sinclair said.

“Exactly.” Ivanova shifted slightly next to him, moving closer, and he tried to ignore the effect she was having on him. “Is it me, or does Ambassador Mollari seem...distracted?”

Sinclair smiled as though she had said something amusing, understanding the game she was playing. “I'm not sure,” he replied, allowing his eyes to drift around the room. Surely enough, he spotted Londo and another Centauri stood off to one side. Both had drinks in hand, but neither were talking or mingling; the taller Centauri looked particularly haughty, almost arrogant, as though he knew something no one else did. “Maybe it's just anticipation for the Emperor's arrival.”

“You don't believe that, Captain, do you?” Ivanova asked.

“Just looking at all possibilities, Commander.” He looked around again, then sighed in frustration.

“What is it?”

“I'm trying to get Sheridan's attention, but it's being commandeered by Delenn.”

Ivanova smiled at his impatience. “Why do you want Sheridan?”

Sinclair looked at her then and smiled back. “We have an agreement. Where possible, he deals with Londo, I deal with G'Kar.”

“I'm not sure who got the better end of that deal,” she remarked.

“Right now, he does because I have to deal with them both,” he grumbled.

Franklin walked up to them then, an astonished expression on his face. “Wonders never cease,” he murmured, and Sinclair and Ivanova turned to look at the entrance to the room just as G'Kar walked in stiffly.

“All we need now is Ambassador Kosh to show up and this little party will be complete,” Ivanova said.

Sinclair pulled a face. “It's bad enough trying to keep all the ambassadors in line during the council meetings, I'm not sure we could manage it when there's alcohol involved as well.”

Franklin looked at him and tried not to smile. “It might make things go more smoothly.”

They watched as Sheridan approached G'Kar, clearly pleased the Narn ambassador had heeded his words and decided to attend the reception. G'Kar's reply, however, could best be described as cold and he walked away as stiffly as he had entered the room. Sheridan watched him go, then turned to see three pairs of eyes on him.

“At least he's here,” he said as he approached the other officers. “Which is more than I can say for Garibaldi.”

Sinclair looked around then, worried. “I thought he left with you.”

“He did. He said he had a few things to check on and that he'd meet us here.” Sinclair and Ivanova shared a look. “What?” Sheridan asked.

“The last time Mr Garibaldi said something like that, someone shot him in the back and he almost died,” Franklin answered grimly.

The younger Captain's eyes widened in realisation. “I'm sure he's fine,” he said, though his words sounded hollow, somehow.

Ivanova suddenly nudged Sinclair. “Look,” she murmured to him, but loud enough for the others to hear too.

They watched as Delenn approached G'Kar, her expression one of curiosity, almost, and as she reached him, the Narn deliberately moved away, as though he did not wish to speak to her. “Now that is strange,” Sinclair said. “What do you suppose...?”

He was interrupted by Franklin's link going off. “Yes?”

_“Doctor, we have an emergency in med lab. It's the Centauri Emperor.”_

Franklin didn't wait for the reaction of the other; he turned on his heel and strode purposefully from the room, passing Garibaldi, who looked surprised at the rush exit. “What did I miss?” he asked as he joined the others.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova moved slowly, taking her time to observe everyone she passed in the corridors. She knew the Emperor was in poor health, she just hadn't realised how ill he was until he had collapsed. And although his advisers wished to send him home, Franklin had insisted he stay in med lab as moving him would kill him for sure. Ivanova couldn't help but wonder if someone had wanted that all along. It was an ugly thought, to be sure, but possibly justified.

A prickling sensation on the back of her neck made her step falter briefly before she forced herself to carry on, rubbing her eyes as if tired to cover up her stumble, in case someone was watching. And it was entirely possible someone was. Because Ivanova felt a presence on the station she hadn't felt for months, one that brought back bad memories for her; one that told her evil had returned to the station.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Captain Sinclair, Captain Sheridan.”

“Doctor,” Sheridan replied first. “What can we do for you?”

“I...I might be breaking patient confidentiality here, but I wanted your advice before I continued,” Franklin said.

Sinclair gestured to the chair. “Please.”

“The Emperor had asked me to deliver a message to Ambassador G'Kar. It's the reason he's here. But I'm not sure how the Narns, or the Centauri, will react.”

“Is it that bad?” Sheridan asked in surprise.

Franklin shook his head. “No, just the opposite.” He took a breath. “He wanted to stand beside a Narn in neutral territory and personally apologise for the crimes committed by the Centauri Republic, and specifically his family. He wanted to tell the Narns that the Centauri were wrong.”

Sheridan whistled while Sinclair shook his head. “That's bound to upset a lot of Narns and Centauri,” he said. “But I think you should give G'Kar the message.”

“I agree. He needs to know.”

Franklin nodded. “Thank you, sirs. I was hoping you'd say that. I just wanted to let you know in case of...well....”

“I'll make sure Mr Garibaldi increases security on the Emperor,” Sinclair assured the doctor. “And we'll also advise him of the situation just so his people can be aware that tensions between the two races may increase.”

Franklin nodded again and left. “Wonders never cease,” Sheridan remarked, echoing the doctor's words from earlier.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

That night, when Sinclair finally stripped his clothes off to fall wearily into bed that he caught sight of his back in the mirror; it was a map of different coloured welts and bruises, all from pike training with the other Rangers. He sighed; the price of leading a double life. Then he stopped. Ivanova's random question earlier suddenly made sense; her preoccupation afterwards was nothing to do with their close encounter, or the situation with the Centauri Emperor. She had turned the moment he had moved away...and see the marks on him. Sinking to the edge of his bed, Sinclair put his head in his hands, wondering how long he could keep the secrecy up for.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Hey Zack, what's up?”

Zack had a smile on his face, but he quickly sobered up and stood to attention as he came to a stop in front of Garibaldi's desk. “Well, sir....”

“Zack, relax,” Garibaldi interrupted him. “Look, I know you're still nervous about this posting, but the harder you try, the more you'll screw up. Trust me on that. Captain Sheridan doesn't know your history and doesn't care. Captain Sinclair trusts my judgement and so far, you've done a great job. So relax a little.”

The security guard smiled again and did as he was told. “Thanks, Chief.”

“So, what is it?”

“I've just seen Ambassadors G'Kar and Mollari sharing a drink in the Zocalo. Ambassador G'Kar seemed particularly elated.”

Garibaldi looked surprised, but not as stunned as Zack would have suspected. “Really? Well, maybe the Emperor has the right idea after all.”

“Chief?”

“Oh, nothing.” Even though the Captains had suggested telling security personnel about the potential danger, Garibaldi had decided against it. And it seemed his instincts were right. “Let's hope this is the start of a new era for them.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Anything else?”

Zack stood to attention again, as if just remembering the real reason he was there. “Yes, Chief. The prisoner is asking to speak to you. Alone. He insists he's harmless but that he has a message for you and only you.”

Garibaldi sighed. “Alright, bring him in.” Moments later, Zack reappeared with the man. “Wait outside, Zack.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Alright, talk,” Garibaldi said.

The man looked around to make sure they really were alone. “I was told to deliver a message to you personally.” He started to reach into his robes.

“Easy there, pal,” the security chief said, his hand going straight to his PPG.

The man held up his other hand and slowed his movements, eventually bringing out a data crystal. “I believe this will explain a few things,” he replied, handing it over.

Garibaldi rolled the crystal around his hand a few times before calling Zack in to take the prisoner back to his cell. Then, alone again, he put the data crystal into a port and waited for the message to play.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting.

But Delenn's face certainly wasn't it.

_“Mr Garibaldi... Michael...I apologise for any distress this has caused you, and I apologise for the secrecy of this message, but it is necessary. To contact you directly would have alerted our enemies to the existence of the Rangers, and neither side is ready for that yet,”_ Delenn said.

“Rangers?” Garibaldi repeated.

As if knowing what he had said, Delenn continued. _“The Rangers were an army of Minbari in the time of Valen. They came together during the last great war, to fight an ancient enemy. Now they are being gathered again, though this time humans are a part of the force. The man who brought you this message is one such Ranger, dedicated to fighting the forces of evil. If you trust me, Michael, you may trust him, because I am their leader.”_

“Why doesn't that surprise me?” he muttered to himself, but at the back of his mind was a niggling doubt. He did trust Delenn, but his instincts told him she wasn't telling the whole truth.

_“I wish I could tell you more, but for now I wish to warn you about a great darkness which is coming, one anticipated by we Minbari for a long time. I ask that you give the Rangers every courtesy possibly, while maintaining their secrecy. Treat them with the respect you would treat me.”_

Garibaldi groaned and pulled a face. He knew, just as Delenn did, that with those words, he would do almost anything she asked of him. “Just like Jeff.”

_“I know you have questions, and while we cannot be seen together too often, it is natural for our paths to cross at times,”_ Delenn continued. _“If you wish to speak to me after this message, you may do so, but I would ask that generally, go through a Ranger. One will be on or around Babylon 5 at all times from now on.”_ She paused, as if debating how much more to say. _“Lastly, Mr Garibaldi...watch out for shadows. They move...when you are not looking at them.”_ With that, the message ended.

“What the...?” Garibaldi stared for a moment at the blank screen, then took the crystal out of the port and put it safely in his pocket. He walked out of his office and down to the holding cells, where Zack was standing guard. “Give us a minute.” The security guard all but clicked his heels together as he strode off.

The man looked up as the security chief entered. “You listened to it.”

“I did. And I have questions.”

“I'll answer if I can.”

“Are you moving weapons through here?”

The Ranger shook his head. “Absolutely not. But we do have friends here. Right now, our mission is simply to gather information. That's all I can tell you because that's all I know.”

Garibaldi accepted that. “What if I need to contact a Ranger in the future? Or you need to contact me? How does that work?”

“I'm sure you'll figure it out,” the Ranger replied. “Am I free to go?”

“Sure.” Garibaldi stood to one side as the door opened. “Just don't go too far.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Captain.”

Sheridan looked at Ivanova's voice to see her frowning, clearly perplexed by something. “What is it, Commander?” Just then Sinclair walked onto the command deck looking like hell. “Are you alright, Captain?”

“Rough night,” he admitted. “Status.”

Sheridan swallowed his instinctively indignation, knowing that Sinclair's tone wasn't an insult against him. Ivanova eyed the older Captain with concern for a moment, then seemed to remember where she was and what she was about to say. “We've just received a preliminary report that the Centauri have launched a full scale assault on a Narn colony.”

“What?” Sinclair and Sheridan exclaimed in unison.

“See for yourself.” She walked over to them and handed them the data pad, almost amused at the way they huddled together to read it.

“But this doesn't make any sense,” Sheridan said. “Not after the message the Emperor wanted to send to the Narns.”

But Sinclair's expression was grave. “It makes perfect sense.” The other two looked at him. “It was the Emperor's wish for peace, and he never made that declaration public. It's possible the Centauri could be acting in his name because he's too weak to say otherwise.”

“Then let us pray he comes through this,” Ivanova said solemnly.

_“Garibaldi to C &C!”_ The security chief's agitated voice broke the moment. _“We've got a major problem in Green Sector, red alert! It's....”_

A technician, Corwin, looked up. “We've lost the connection, sir.”

“It has to be G'Kar,” Sheridan said.

Sinclair looked at him. “I'll go.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Delenn took a moment to compose herself before saying, “Come.”

Garibaldi stepped into the room and nodded to her. “Ambassador.”

“Mr Garibaldi, to what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked, smiling.

He looked around. “Is it safe?”

She nodded. “Please. Sit down.”

“You knew I'd come.”

“I would have been disappointed if you didn't.”

“I would like to speak plainly with you.”

“Again, I would be disappointed if you didn't.”

Garibaldi smiled. “I can accept almost everything that was on that data crystal. Except the part about you being the leader of these Rangers. Not the sole leader, anyway.”

“And you have a theory,” Delenn said, smiling back.

“I do.” He leant forward, clasping and unclasping his hands. “I've known Jeff for a long time, and I've always known he's been searching for something, not just answers to his questions, but a purpose. Do you remember last year, when we discovered Epsilon III wasn't an uninhabited planet like we thought? I asked you why you didn't tell us and let us take care of the problem of finding someone for the machine. And that's what you told me, that if you had, Sinclair would now be down there because he's looking for something.”

“I remember,” she replied calmly.

“I know that Jeff made a side trip to Minbar before returning here at the beginning of this year after being recalled to Earth,” Garibaldi continued. “And he's made two other trips in the last four months. And despite the reasons given, that's unusual. So I think he's the main force behind these Rangers, which leads me to wonder – why him?”

Delenn was silent for a while, making the security chief think he was right. “I can see how you would come to that conclusion, Mr Garibaldi, but I can assure you it is nothing more than coincidence. Captain Sinclair has been helping us on an unrelated matter.”

“Which you can't tell me. So forgive me, Ambassador, but I'll stick with my theory, thanks.”

“Actually, I will tell you, if only to put your mind at ease.”

It was in that moment Garibaldi started to have doubts. “Go on.”

“Do you remember the young telepath who was found on the station towards the end of last year? Alisa Beldon?” Delenn asked, and he nodded. “As you know, she went to live on Minbar, and while she has settled quite well, there have been some...difficulties. Cultural as well as...what is the word? Hormonal?”

Garibaldi nodded again in understanding. “That's right.”

Delenn looked pleased. “We could not approach your government directly without alerting your Psi Corps to her existence, and while she would have preferred to deal with Commander Ivanova, it was much easier to find an excuse for Captain Sinclair to leave the station. And she is fond of him.”

“I remember.” He pulled a face. “So that's it? Jeff's been playing uncle?”

The Minbari ambassador smiled, understanding that reference. “Yes, and he does it quite well.”

“And he couldn't say anything because again, Alisa isn't supposed to exist,” Garibaldi said.

“Correct.”

He smiled somewhat sheepishly then. “So Jeff has no idea about these Rangers?”

“What Captain Sinclair has discovered on his own, about anything, is anyone's guess. You and he are very similar that way,” Delenn said fondly.

“True. Well, I'm sorry for doubting you, Ambassador, and from now on, I'll help the Rangers any way I can. I have the feeling we'll need all the allies we can get soon.”

“You are not wrong...Michael.” They both stood. “And there is no need to apologise. You were acting on your instinct.”

Garibaldi smiled properly at her then. “Thank you for your time...Delenn.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Franklin couldn't stand to watch the decline of any patient, but it was more difficult with the Centauri Emperor, especially after the rumours floating around the station. The Centauri had all but declared war on the Narns. It was a far cry from the peace the Emperor had hoped for. Franklin's eyes strayed to the doors of med lab, though he didn't expect him to show up. He didn't even know if his message had been received; all he could do was hope.

“Doctor.”

He was at the Emperor's side immediately. “I'm here.”

Turhan smiled. “Thank you. You know, I would very much have liked to see a Vorlon.”

Franklin sensed Kosh's presence before he saw him, the Emperor's eyes already closed again, and he turned to see the Vorlon stood in the middle of the room. He hadn't even heard the doors open or close, and he realised with a shiver that he had never been this close to a Vorlon before. With a respectful nod, he moved out of the way, giving Kosh and the Emperor privacy for their brief exchange. In fact, he was so lost in his thoughts that it took him a while to realise someone was stood in front of him.

Or some thing.

“Ambassador,” Franklin said, struggling to stand up straight.

“Discussions with a mirror will give answers that are already inside you,” Kosh told him before gliding out of med lab.

Franklin stared after him, then sat down heavily. “What the hell...?”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Alright, Mr Garibaldi, we're all here. What is it?” Sheridan asked.

“We've all been wondering how the Centauri managed to pull off such an attack so quickly and so boldly as well,” Garibaldi started. “I mean, I know there have been skirmishes between them for the last year and longer, but this latest attacked seems out of character, even for the Centauri.”

“What have you got, Chief?” Ivanova asked curiously.

“For a while now we've been hearing rumours about a new race that's 'on the prowl'.”

“Or an old race come back to power,” Sheridan replied. “If I remember some of the rumours rightly.”

Garibaldi acknowledged the point with a nod. “I have it on very good authority that the rumours are true, and I think there might be a link between them and the Centauri, which might explain who they were able to pull off this attack.”

Ivanova instinctively knew what the security chief was saying was true, having sensed evil on board the station, but before she could say anything, Sinclair spoke up, a frown on his face. “How reliable is this source, Garibaldi?”

“Very. They come highly recommended to me,” he replied.

“It's not much to go on,” Sinclair said.

“I know, but like I said, this source was sent by someone I trust.”

Sheridan looked at Sinclair. “That's good enough for me,” he said, and Ivanova nodded her agreement.

“Alright,” Sinclair surrendered. “But it doesn't help us any.”

“Actually, it might.” Sheridan started to pace. “If our assumption is correct, I'm guessing the Centauri would want the knowledge of such an alliance kept secret. I'm sure there's a way we can use that to our advantage.”

The other Captain remained sceptical, but Garibaldi and Ivanova gave him their full attention. “What did you have in mind?”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair didn't hesitate before pressing the chimes. He had once again declined Sheridan's offer to join him, saying that he could handle the council meeting alone; it wasn't a punishment as it had been before, but a measure of trust. It also allowed Sinclair to spend some time alone with Ivanova, which he felt was needed. He couldn't tell her the nature of his injuries just yet, but he wanted to reassure her that he was okay.

The door before him opened and he stepped through carefully, instantly noting the destruction before him. He wasn't surprised. After he had stopped G'Kar in his rampage, Sinclair knew the anger the Narn was feeling had to go somewhere, and so he had destroyed his quarters instead of attacking Londo as was his plan.

“G'Kar, I know you and I have disagreed on many things, rarely seen eye to eye, but I want you to know how sorry I am for what has happened, and that I would never have wished that upon you or your people,” Sinclair said. “I wouldn't wish the ferocity of that attack on my worst enemies.”

G'Kar turned slowly. “When you fought the Minbari...was it like that?”

Sinclair nodded. “We were hopelessly outmatched. But we never gave up.”

“Neither will we.”

“I know. That's why I'm here. We've called a council meeting and I want you to attend. Both Captain Sheridan and I believe we can help, and we're certain that the Minbari government will side with us on this as well.” He took a step forward. “We have never been friends, but I have never desired us to be enemies. And right now, I'm offering all of my resources to you. This offer comes from Captain Sheridan as well.” He held his hand out. “We want to help you any way we can, whether that help comes with the support of Earthdome or now.”

G'Kar stared at the proffered limb. “The last time I took someone's hand, we were at war less than twenty four hours later.” Slowly, he grasped Sinclair's hand. “Thank you, Captain. For this, and for stopping me earlier.”

“We'll find a way, G'Kar, I promise you. To make this right. No matter what it takes. No matter how long it takes. We'll find a way.” He walked out then, leaving the Narn holding his closed fist close to his face.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan stretched his legs out in front of him, aware Garibaldi was doing the same on the sofa opposite. Next to him, Ivanova was staring into space, and next to the Captain, Franklin had his head back and his eyes closed. Only Sinclair was absent.

“Is there ever such a thing as a quiet day around here?” Sheridan asked dryly.

Garibaldi nodded. “There was one day.”

“It was a Tuesday, wasn't it?” Ivanova added.

“I think I missed that,” Franklin said without opening his eyes.

Sheridan managed a smile. “What a day. I'm tempted to ask what else....”

“Don't!” the other three exclaimed.

He held his hands up in surrender. “Doc, is everything sorted for sending the Emperor's body back to Centauri Prime?”

Franklin nodded. “It should be on its way any time now.”

“I still can't believe the Narns and the Centauri are at war,” Ivanova said, shaking her head.

“I know. I mean, they've always disagreed, but this?” Garibaldi shook his head. “I've got to admit, I feel sorry for the Narns. I just don't see how they can survive this. They barely survived the last time.”

“We'll just have to do all we can to help,” Sheridan said, his voice heavy.

“Or as much as Earthdome will let us,” Franklin corrected.

The Captain didn't answer that.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Delenn, I just wanted to say thank you.”

“You do not need to thank me.”

“Yes, I do.” Sinclair smiled. “You lied for me.”

“It was for the greater good,” she replied.

“I know, but still...I know what it means for you to do that. And I thank you. Did Michael believe you?”

Delenn nodded. “He did. The Rangers are now free to come and go as they please. As are you.”

“For now.” He paced a little. “Delenn, what are the Rangers capable of?”

“They will do whatever you ask of them. They are Rangers because they believe in the cause, in the protection of the light, in defeating evil. And they believe in you.”

“I don't.”

Delenn startled him by laying her hand flat against his cheek. “I do, Jeff. I always have. And I always will. I have always known, from before we captured your ship, that you were destined for great things. And destiny does not choose wrongly.”

Sinclair smiled and covered her hand with his. “Thank you.” They separated. “There is one other problem; my bruises.”

Delenn smiled. “If you don't want any, you'll just have to learn to move faster.” 

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova was halfway though taking her jacket off as she entered her quarters before realising something wasn't quite right. “Computer, lights.”

Out of the darkness sprang the image of Sinclair sat on her sofa, jacketless, his shirt collar and cuffs undone. “I let myself in.”

“Really?” she replied sarcastically, hitting him on the arm as she walked past him. “You scared me!”

“I'm sorry, but maybe you should get used to me just appearing in your quarters.”

Ivanova stopped in her tracks and walked slowly backwards. “What do you mean?”

Sinclair stared at her, once again realising his blunder. “I just meant that I'd rather not have any secrets from you. You can come into my quarters at any time – and you do,” he reminded her. “I just thought...I hoped it worked both ways.” He shook his head ruefully. “I have no idea why I'm acting like a tongue tied cadet around you lately.”

She sighed and sat next time. “And I don't know why I keep jumping to the wrong conclusions.”

“Maybe because we're both frustrated with the confines of our jobs?” he asked gently.

“Possibly. Jeff...I have to tell you something.”

“You saw the bruises on my back.”

Ivanova nodded. “Yes.”

“And you want answers.” Sinclair took hold of her hand and let his thumb draw lazy patterns over the skin. “I wish I could give you some. But I can't. Not just yet. It's for the greater good, if that helps.”

“Only a little. I want to trust you....”

“Tell me how to earn that trust, Susan.”

Ivanova took a deep breath. “Stay.”

“What?”

“Just...stay with me tonight. Not...not in my bed. But in the same quarters. Please?” she asked quietly, not willing to share with him the knowledge she had of the evil on the station.

Pulling her to him, Sinclair kissed the top of her head. “I can do that for you.”

TBC


	35. 210 GROPOS

_June 2259_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova sat back carefully in her chair, slowly stretching her legs out in front of her, her eyes and ears alert despite her body's wish to relax. It had been a peaceful day so far; in fact, a relatively peaceful few weeks. Since the start of the Narn-Centauri war almost two months ago, things had settled into a lull that almost resembled routine. There were still incidents, but on a scale of one to hell, they were relatively minor. And today was especially quiet, which Ivanova knew from pasts experience meant that all hell was about to break loose. Still, she was determined to enjoy it while she could; while she waited for Sinclair to return.

It was not long after the start of the Narn-Centauri war that Sinclair was once again called to Minbar, but soon after his departure, Delenn had asked to see Sheridan, Ivanova, Garibaldi and Franklin in a private meeting.

_“Thank you for agreeing to see me under such...unusual circumstances,” Delenn said as they gathered in her quarters._

_Sheridan smiled, though it was a little uncertain. “It's no problem, Delenn. What can we do for you? And shouldn't we wait for Sinclair to return?”_

_“Actually, it is Captain Sinclair I wish to discuss with you. I know you are all curious as to his sudden recent journeys to Minbar, and I would like to explain why.”_

_Surprise registered quickly on Sheridan's face. “By all means,” he said, leaning forwards in anticipation. Ivanova and Franklin did the same, although Garibaldi held back, and Ivanova wondered then if he already knew._

_“First, I believe a bit of history is required.” Delenn started pacing. “Towards the end of last year, a young telepath was discovered living alone on Babylon 5. It seemed that we were in a unique position, as your Psi Corps had no knowledge of her existence.”_

_“Alisa Beldon,” Ivanova supplied with a smile. “Her telepathic abilities had just started to emerge with the onset of puberty, and while Ms Winters was certain there was a record of her somewhere, Captain Sinclair and I decided to try and keep her out of the hands of Psi Corps if possible.”_

_“They gave her other choices, one being the Narns, the other being the Minbari,” Franklin continued._

_Sheridan nodded. “I think I can see where this is going.”_

_“Do you disapprove, Captain Sheridan?” Delenn asked curiously._

_“Not at all. I'm a great believer in allowing people to make their own choices, no matter who they are or what those choices are.”_

_She smiled warmly at him. “Alisa decided to live on Minbar and help to serve as a bridge between our two people. However, we have encountered some...problems along the way.”_

_“Nothing too serious,” Garibaldi assured Ivanova, who looked worried. “But with Alisa's age, and her background, and the simple fact she's human, she's run into some cultural difficulties that needed the help of a human to fix.”_

_Sheridan looked at him. “You knew about this,” he accused him._

_“Only recently,” Delenn replied, coming to Garibaldi's rescue. “Out of all of you, Mr Garibaldi is the most....”_

_“Nosey?” Ivanova suggested._

_“Relentless?” Franklin said._

_“How about 'curious'?” Garibaldi asked them._

_Delenn smiled at their banter. “All of those things. I knew he would stumble upon the answer sooner rather than later, but I did not want him to cause a scandal in the process. By accident, of course.”_

_Sheridan grinned at the way she teased the security chief. “Let me guess, you couldn't tell the others because then I would have known something wasn't right, and I had no idea that there was a human telepath living on Minbar, because you all did a good job of covering that up.”_

_The three humans in the room all suddenly looked elsewhere, their expressions slightly guilty. Delenn, however, stared him straight in the eye. “Yes. Alisa initially wanted to see Commander Ivanova, but there was no viable reason we could think of for her to leave the station randomly. Captain Sinclair, however....”_

_“Has always been of...shall we say special interest to you?” Sheridan said diplomatically._

_“And being a Captain gives him more flexibility to go off station,” Garibaldi pointed out._

_Delenn then grew serious. “But with things changing as they are, secrecy is something we can no longer afford. It may be necessary, Captain, for you to help in covering up Captain Sinclair's absences.”_

_“I thought Minbari didn't lie,” he said curiously._

_“I did not lie. I simply said that Captain Sinclair was helping my government with diplomatic matters.”_

_Franklin looked at Delenn. “But Alisa is okay on Minbar?”_

_“She is happy, for the most part,” the Minbari ambassador replied. “She is used to being on her own. I think that soon, the need for visits will become less frequent. But for now....”_

_“Well, Delenn, I for one appreciate your honesty, and I'll do what I can to cover Sinclair's absence from others,” Sheridan said._

_Ivanova looked at him in mild surprise. “You're not going to tell the Psi Corps about Alisa?”_

_Sheridan stared blankly back. “Who?”_

Ivanova smiled and stretched a little more. Since that meeting, Sinclair had made three trips back to Minbar, undoubtedly making the most of the quiet time, and although she missed him, his absence was bearable now she knew why. And yet something about it all didn't quite sit right with her. She believed Delenn without a doubt, but at the same thing, certain things did not make sense to Ivanova. And she could not forget the bruises she had seen on Sinclair's back. That night he had spent in her quarters, she had hoped to bridge the subject with him, but had decided ultimately it wouldn't be appropriate. He had been the perfect gentleman, as she knew he would be, as he always had been before, sleeping on the sofa while she slept in her bed. The first time it had happened was after Santiago had been killed and Garibaldi was in a coma. They had needed company, needed each other, and simply stayed holding each other on the sofa all night. At first, Ivanova thought that having someone else in her quarters would be strange, uncomfortable, but that wasn't the case with Sinclair. His gentle breathing – no snoring, as Sheridan had tried to insinuate – was calming to her, almost like a lullaby, and she wondered how she could make his presence in her quarters a more regular occurrence without drawing unwanted attention to them.

“Commander, we've got ships coming through the jumpgate,” Corwin told her.

Ivanova resisted the urge to groan. The fact that he was telling her, and that she knew for sure there were no ships due in for a while, meant it was a surprise. And she hated surprises. She punched her console, and her eyes widened. “Ivanova to Sheridan.”

_“Sheridan, go.”_

“Captain, you might want to get down to the docking bay immediately.”

Sheridan immediately detected the slight note of panic in Ivanova's voice. _“What is it, Commander?”_

“The EAS Schwarzkopf has just arrived, at the lead of what looks like an Earthforce task force,” Ivanova told him.

_“Did I miss their scheduled stopover?”_ Sheridan asked sarcastically, and Ivanova could tell he was moving fast through the corridors.

“You're not the only one.”

_“Alright, I'll handle it and check in later. Sheridan out.”_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Garibaldi too had been enjoying a peaceful day. Now he was walking through the corridors of the station with Ivanova, both of them looking dazed and overwhelmed with what was happening. “Twenty five thousand troops,” the security chief stated. “Twenty five _thousand_. And they didn't think a bit of notice would hurt?”

Ivanova shook her head. “I know. 'Hey, we want you to find space for all these marines right now, for several days! It shouldn't be a problem for you,'” she said sarcastically. “How much extra space do they think we have?”

Garibaldi smiled. “How did Sheridan take it?”

She smiled back. “You want it with or without expletives?”

“You know, it's not just the extra space that's a problem,” Garibaldi continued after a while. “It's how...shall we say colorful things will get once the Marines start exploring? I mean, let's face it, we have a few 'lively' places on Babylon 5.”

Ivanova pulled a face. “I know, I know. But I'm hoping their superior officers have at least some control over them.”

“Who are the commanding officers?”

“Sergeant Major Plug – no jokes please,” Ivanova told him mock-sternly. “And General Franklin.”

Garibaldi frowned. “General Richard Franklin?”

She nodded. “Stephen's father.”

“And I'm guessing the Doc had no idea he was coming on board.”

“If he did, he didn't say anything to me.”

“Great. More fun,” Garibaldi stated dryly. “Just wait until Jeff sees this.”

Ivanova's face suddenly transformed instantly as she looked over his shoulder. “Speak of the devil.”

He turned to see Sinclair striding towards them, his expression a mix of bewilderment and barely contained rage. “What the hell is going on?” the Captain asked as he reached them.

Garibaldi managed a smile. “And a gracious good day to you too, Captain. Can't you see we have visitors? EarthGov's idea of keeping us on our toes.”

The security chief's easy wit had the desired effect; Sinclair's face relaxed almost immediately into a smile. “Did they give us any warning?” he asked.

Ivanova shook her head. “None at all. Sheridan is about as happy as you are,” she pointed out.

“Good. Who's in charge of this...mess?”

“General Richard Franklin.”

Sinclair's eyes widened. “Stephen's father?”

Garibaldi looked at Ivanova. “Maybe we should get him a name tag made.”

The Captain glared at his old friend. “I'm sure that will make the Doctor happy.”

“I take it there's a history?” Ivanova asked.

“You could say that,” Sinclair replied. “I don't know the full story, I just know there is one.”

“Oh, before I forget, Captain, General Franklin has ordered a meeting tomorrow morning at 0900 to discuss...things,” Ivanova told him.

“Great.”

“See, now you've spoiled all his fun,” Garibaldi told her. “Here he was, looking forward to having it out with the good General right now, about how it's his station – and Sheridan's – and how he doesn't appreciate being told what to do on it. Now he has to wait for tomorrow.”

Sinclair glared at his friend. “ _He_ is still here.”

Garibaldi looked singularly unconcerned. “Why is that, Captain? No offence, but you look like hell. Why don't some rest? I have the feeling you won't be getting much with these GROPOS loose on the station.” He turned then. “Commander, do me a favour? Make sure our beloved Captain gets to his quarters without detouring.” He winked and walked away.

“I'm going to kill him,” Sinclair declared.

“I think I'll join you,” Ivanova agreed.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Good morning, everybody,” General Franklin greeted them curtly the next day, but his gaze was fixed solely on Sinclair. “I trust your mission was successful, Captain?”

“Yes, sir,” Sinclair replied promptly. He had spent some time with Sheridan the day before, making sure that their stories matched as to where he had been.

The General's eyes bored into him, as though trying to ascertain whether he was telling the truth or not, and eventually he turned away, seemingly satisfied. “I know you're all wondering why we're here, and while the mission is classified, I am at liberty to tell you about it....”

“That makes a change,” Garibaldi muttered under his breath. Only Ivanova heard him and she elbowed him in the ribs.

“...Specifically because I need your help, Captain Sheridan.”

“Mine?”

“Yes.”

Flustered, Sheridan looked around. “Shouldn't we wait for Dr Franklin before continuing?” It had occurred to him that he was the only member of senior staff absent from the meeting.

“No,” the General said flatly. “In a few day, we will be leaving for the nearby place Akdor, to assist the Sh'lassen Triumvirate in suppressing a rebellion.”

Everyone's face in the room showed their surprise. “That's a lot of troops for a rebellion,” Garibaldi pointed out.

“Yes, but as I'm sure Captain Sheridan will tell you, they will be needed,” the General replied.

All eyes turned to Sheridan, who nodded in agreement. “I've been to Akdor before, helped the government with a similar uprising. I assume that's why you're here, sir.”

The General nodded. “Part of the reason, Captain, yes. I want to confer with you over battle strategy as I think your expertise in the matter will be helpful.” He glanced around at the others. “Until EarthGov makes the news of the aid official, this mission is to be kept secret. Should anyone ask, you can tell them that it is just a routine exercise and we are heading to Io.” Then he almost smiled. “Also, my task force has brought with us equipment to upgrade the station's defence grid, making it far more powerful and giving you a much better chance of defending yourselves.”

“With respect, General, our current defence grid has served well so far,” Sinclair said carefully. “And Babylon 5 is supposed to be a peace project....”

“It is also a military outpost, Captain,” the General told him firmly. Ivanova and Garibaldi both winced, knowing that Sinclair would have said exactly the same thing if he had been allowed to finish. “And especially with what is happening with the other races, President Clark wants to make sure his offworld bases are secure.”

“Sir?” Sheridan asked in confusion.

The General began to pace as though he was lecturing to new cadets. “The Narn-Centauri war may be in its infancy, but that doesn't make it any less danger. It is entirely possible that the conflict will eventually engulf much of their part of the galaxy, and Earth, being a prominent power in these sectors, will eventually be forced to choose sides.”

Everyone in the room looked uneasy at that thought, and of Babylon 5 being turned into something other than what it was supposed to be; offensive instead of defensive. The others remained quiet, all eyes focused on Sheridan; it was clear the General liked and respected him above the others, especially Sinclair, and so it was up to him to play diplomat and leader.

Stepping up to the task, Sherian smiled. “So, General, where would you like to start?”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Keffer entered AirHarts somewhat hesitantly, watching and listening for any signs that the Marines had infiltrated their as well. Luckily for him, Kat – bartender and boss – was holding a firm line and keeping them out. “The usual, Lieutenant?” she asked him with a smile.

“Better make it a double,” he replied.

“Overrun by GROPOS, huh?”

“Like you wouldn't believe,” Keffer said.

Kat nodded in understanding. “I think some of the others are over there.” She pointed to a corner of the room where he could see Ivanova and Sheridan at least.

“Thanks.” Keffer grabbed his drink and walked over. “Got room for one more?” he asked.

Ivanova turned and smiled at him. “Sure, Warren, pull up a chair.”

“Thanks.” He slotted himself into between Sheridan and Garibaldi. Ivanova was wedged between the two Captains and there was only Franklin missing. “So, any idea how long this madness is going to continue for?”

“A few days at least,” Sinclair replied in a weary tone. “Though so far, we haven't had any incidents.”

Garibald glared at his friend. “You had to say it, Jeff, didn't you? You _had_ to say it.” He shook his head and then stared expectantly at his link, waiting for it to go off.

Sheridan and Sinclair laughed, but Ivanova was looking at Keffer. “You had trouble?”

“Just a couple of GROPOS bunked in my quarters,” the pilot replied off-handedly. “I sorted it, though.”

Garibaldi jerked his head at Keffer. “Listen to him, talking like this happens all the time.”

Sinclair sat back in his seat and listened as the banter went around the group, back and forth across the table, and while he longed to join in, he found himself feeling apart from the others. Part of him was sat in AirHarts, Captain Jeffrey Sinclair, joint commanding officer of the Earthforce station Babylon 5, revelling in the simple joy of being around his friends. But another part of him was back on Minbar, Entil'zha, leader of the Rangers, training other humans and Minbari how to fight, and being trained himself. It was strange to him how hand-to-hand combat seemed to come so naturally to him. He could understand the leadership part; after all, it was what he had been born and bred for. But any fighting he had done in the past was always from a ship, always in space. Not on his feet, not on the ground.

He shifted slightly and winced at the complaint his ribs sent out. He hadn't broken or cracked any, but that didn't make him feel any better, and to distract himself from the pain, he found himself thinking back to the day before.

_“How's Alisa?” Ivanova asked as she walked Sinclair to his quarters as she had been asked to do by Garibaldi._

_Sinclair smiled, happy this time that he didn't have to lie as he had actually managed to spend a little time with the young telepath while on Minbar. “Fine. She seems to be settling at last. It's been a difficult transition for her, but she's adjusting well. The Minbari have been very patient and understanding with her and she has actually made some friends her own age.”_

_Ivanova smiled as well. “Good. That's good.”_

_When they reached his door, she stopped, hesitantly. “Do you want to come in?” he asked quietly._

_She nodded, and as soon as they were inside, she started talking. “I know there's more going on than what you've told me, I just don't know what. And I know, you probably can't tell me. But...you're hurt, I can tell. And I just need to know...was it deliberate? Is this some kind of...coping mechanism?”_

_Sinclair stared at her, stunned. “What?” he managed to say after a while._

_“You live for danger, Jeff. For the thrill and the adrenaline, and I know you've made an effort to be more responsible for me and Garibaldi, and now with Sheridan here....” Ivanova misread the expression on his face and turned to leave. “I'm sorry.”_

_Sinclair stepped forward and caught her wrist. “Susan, wait. I'm just surprised you thought that, though I can understand why you did. I promise, it's nothing like that” Then he stopped himself. “Well, I suppose if you look at it one way, it could be like that,” he said ruefully. “But it's for the greater good. Everything I do, I try to do for the greater good. You have to know that.”_

_Ivanova faced him and turned her arm so her hand slid into his. “I do. I guess I just needed to hear you say it.” She studied him carefully. “I'm not sure anyone else would notice, except perhaps Garibaldi, but you're hurt now, aren't you?”_

_“Yes,” he replied truthfully._

_She led him over to the table and pulled out a chair. “Sit.”_

_Sinclair obeyed and stiffened slightly as she moved behind him. Then her hands settled on his shoulders._

__“You're beautiful, Susan.”_ _

_Ivanova felt him relax as she touched him._

__“I've seen smaller asteroids.”_ _

_They both jumped as if an electric current had surged through them, springing apart as if burnt. “I'm sorry,” Ivanova said immediately._

_“Don't be. It's been a long day for all of us,” Sinclair replied, attempting a smile. “I'll be fine, Susan. Why don't you try to get some R &R in?”_

_She nodded. “I think I will. Good night, Captain.”_

_“Good night, Commander.”_

Sinclair was pulled back to the present by a prickling sensation on the back of his neck and he turned slowly to see Ivanova watching him intently. Luckily no one else seemed to have noticed his distraction. He gave her a small smile as if to say 'I'm fine'; she responded with a look that said 'I know you're not but I'll accept the lie. For now.'

“I thought Stephen was supposed to be joining us,” Garibaldi said, looking around AirHarts for his friend.

Sheridan's expression grew serious. “I think he's busy.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova had never seen Franklin so upset before, not even over the incident with Shon the year before. When she had escorted the Marines to med lab earlier, under orders, she hadn't expected him to blow up so angrily, and the worst part was, he wasn't for backing down. He barely reacted to her own short fused answer and she was worried she would have to resort to more basic measures to get his attention; luckily for him, he came to his senses before she knocked him back to them.

Now she waited in the Eclipse Cafe for the doctor, hopefully to get to the root of matter. “Mind if I join you?”

Ivanova spun, surprised to see Sinclair stood a few feet away from her. “Actually, yes, I do. I'm waiting for someone,” she explained as hurt flashed over his features.

“Okay.”

Ivanova smiled and rolled her eyes. “I'm waiting for Stephen. I'm hoping he'll talk about his father. He needs to get the problem off his chest, especially now.”

Sinclair nodded in understanding and came to stand next to her. “He doesn't know about the mission, Susan,” he reminded her. “And despite how we feel about the General keeping his son in the dark, we have to respect that decision. You can't tell him.”

“I know. And I won't. But you can tell a lot from what a person doesn't say as well, you know.”

They shared an intense look. “Yes, you can,” he replied with a smile.

“He's coming. Go away before you scare him,” Ivanova said, shivering a little at the gaze Sinclair gave her before striding off.

“Problem?” Franklin asked, nodding at the retreating back of the Captain.

“He was just checking in. So, how are you?”

“I'm sorry about before, Susan. It's just...I love my father, but I always seem to end up angry at him.”

Ivanova ordered drinks for them both, then gestured to a table. “Tell me.”

Twelve months ago, she wouldn't have though she would be sat here with a man she now considered a friend, listening to his life story. His openness about it made her realise how much she kept to herself and how isolated that made her sometimes, though Franklin and the others accepted that as part of who she was and never pressed her to share more than she was comfortable with. And despite the orders to keep the mission secret, Ivanova couldn't help but encourage the doctor to at least talk to his father, hoping he could read between the lines, and judging from the panicked look on his face, he could and did.

“These troops are bound for Io...aren't they?” Franklin asked, worried.

Ivanova placed her hand on his arm. “Talk to your father, Stephen. Trust me, you'll regret it if you don't.” She stood. “I have to get back on duty. You know where I am if you want to talk again. Any time, about any thing.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Mr Garibaldi.”

The security chief stopped in his tracks and gave a genuine smile at the Minbari approaching him. “Ambassador.”

“Mr Garibaldi,” Delenn started, and he recognised that tone immediately. “There seems to be an unusual amount of Earthforce soldiers onboard the station.”

“It will only be for a few days, Ambassador,” he informed her, then lowered his voice. “If it helps, we're as happy about it as you are.”  
Despite her dislike over the situation, Delenn smiled. “I imagine Captains Sinclair and Sheridan are less than pleased.”

“That's one way of putting it. Have you heard anything more about the war?” Garibaldi asked.

“No.”

“But?”

“Am I so obvious, Mr Garibaldi?” she asked with a small smile.

“Only to your friends, Ambassador,” he replied.

Delenn beamed at him then. “It pleases me that we are friends.”

“We've been friends since you watched cartoons and shared popcorn with me. No one else has ever done that,” Garibaldi admitted.

“Then I am honoured.” She bowed.

“So, what are your thoughts on the Narn-Centauri war?”

“I would say that both sides are actually anxious for the conflict. G'Kar and Londo refuse to even speak to each other.”

“That's nothing new,” Garibaldi remarked.

“True, but this time it is different. It is almost as if they know that if they speak to one another, they will both end up realising that not only are they wrong, but they are more alike than either of them would ever care to admit,” Delenn said. 

“You could be right, Ambassador,” he replied as his link went off. “Garibaldi.”

_“Chief, we've got a disturbance in DarkStar.”_

“If it's a Centauri and a Minbari, I'm not getting involved,” he muttered, then louder, “On my way. Excuse me, Ambassador.”

“Of course.”

“And Delenn?”

“Yes?”

“Take care.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“I'm still not happy about this,” Sinclair said as they sat around an empty command deck.

“I know, but the new capabilities of the defence grid are impressive,” Ivanova replied.

“Maybe. But I feel like we're being more offensive than defensive.”

“That isn't always a bad thing,” Sheridan pointed out.

Sinclair acknowledged the point with a nod of his head. “Has anyone spoken to Delenn?”

Ivanova nodded. “A little while ago. She's fine. Apparently a female Marine came to her rescue...a female Marine who was also showing an interest in Garibaldi.”

Sheridan grinned and even Sinclair smirked a little. “I was wondering where he was,” the younger Captain said.

“How's Stephen?” Sinclair asked.

“He came in while the General and I were discussing battle strategies. The older Franklin shot him down pretty hard,” Sheridan replied.

“Did you have a problem living up to your father's reputation?” Ivanova asked Sinclair, knowing his fighter pilot heritage was no secret.

He shook his head. “No. My father always told me to do what made me happy, whether that was the military and flying, and baking bread in the south of France.”

Sheridan raised his eyebrows. “Baking bread?”

“Just an example. But my brother didn't have such an easy time, and not just because he shunned joining Earthforce.”

“I think they'll work it out,” Ivanova said confidently.

“I sure hope so,” Sheridan replied.

_“Garibaldi to C &C! We've got a major disturbance in the casino, I need reinforcements down here stat!”_

“We're sending a team in right now,” Sinclair replied, then he looked at Sheridan. “One of us should go as well.”

“You're right...why are you looking at me?”

“General Franklin likes you.”

“So?”

Sinclair smiled at him. “Diplomacy, Captain.”

“Alright, Captain, I'll go.” Sheridan stood. “But you owe me.”

Sinclair watched him go, then turned to see Ivanova staring at him. “What?”

“It's nice to see you two finally getting along. What changed?”

“We talked.”

“It must have been one hell of a talk,” she said curiously.

He nodded. “It was.” Then he swallowed. “Susan, I know this isn't the right time or place, but one day soon, we need to have one of those talks. Or many.”

Ivanova could have jumped to conclusions and acted defensively, but she decided to rein in her natural reactions. “Alright. One or many. Whenever you want.”

Sinclair smiled. “Good.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

It was all over. The Marines had left, the station was once again back in its usual chaotic order, but there had been losses. Sinclair had turned down Ivanova's offer of dinner in favour of finding Garibaldi; luckily for him she understood perfectly and he found himself thinking how lucky he was to have her in his life anyway, but how lucky he would be as a man to have her by his side.

He had changed out of his uniform and headed to one of the seedier areas of Babylon 5. He hoped Garibaldi wouldn't be drinking, but after everything that had just happened, he wanted to be sure. He found his old friend in what looked like a boxing bar.

“Room for another, Mike?”

Garibaldi looked up, surprised. “Jeff. What are you doing down here?”

“Looking for you,” Sinclair replied honestly. “You want to talk about it?”

“Nothing to say.”

“The correct answer is 'sure'. You then order up some food to go with our discussion.”

Garibaldi tried not to smile. “Oh, it's going to be like that, is it?”

“I'm here as a friend, Michael. Don't make me make it an order.”

He held his hands up in surrender. “Alright.”

Moments later, a waitress came past and put two plates on their table. Sinclair looked at Garibaldi. “You knew I'd come find you.”

Garibaldi shrugged and picked up a few fries. “I thought you might.”

“And if I hadn't shown?”

“I'd have eaten yours too. I'm not letting good food go to waste.”

“So, how you doing Mike?” Sinclair asked after a while.

“You know me, Jeff, I've always done everything backwards and full speed ahead, but with Dodger...I don't know, I wanted to do it right, I guess.” Garibaldi pulled a face. “Turns out, if I'd have done things the way I used to, we'd both have been happy.” He then shrugged. “But I didn't and I screwed up. Again.”

“Not from what I heard,” Sinclair said. “Apparently the two of you shared a hell of a kiss before she left.”

Garibaldi smiled at that. “Yeah, we did.”

“I don't think she would have held a grudge against you, Michael, so don't hold one against yourself.” Sinclair studied him. “What else is bothering you?”

“Lou Welch has been offered a transfer, onto the President's private guard.”

The atmosphere around the table changed immediately. “Did he ask for it?”

Garibaldi shook his head. “He told me he didn't and I believe him, but it would be a good move for him.” He lowered his voice and leant on the table. “Also for us. I know Lou, known him a long time. He's a good man, loyal and honest. And I mean loyal to us, not Clark.”

“What did you say to him?” Sinclair asked.

“I told him I'd respect any decision he made and that I wished him luck no matter he decided. Although he was doing a great job here, he could be more useful to us on Earth.”

“How did he take that?”

“Exactly as I meant it,” Garibaldi replied. “He said he'd give it a few days to think about it, then let me know. The position would start until the beginning of next year, but he'd have to leave soon for training.”

“The sooner the better, if he's onboard,” Sinclair said.

“My thoughts exactly.”

“You'll miss him.”

Garibaldi shrugged. “Sure, but change is the nature of life, right? Get used to it or get buried by it.”

Sinclair lifted his glass. “Amen.”

TBC


	36. 211 All Alone in the Night

_July 2259_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

He wondered how good his instincts really were as he wandered through the station in the early hours of the morning. There was no denying something had woken him up, a strange sixth sense alerting him to her turmoil, her distress. And though it may have been sensible for him to go straight to her quarters, he knew that she wouldn't be there. In fact, he knew exactly where she would be...or at least he thought he did. He wasn't prone to bouts of self-doubt, but being woken abruptly as though someone had called to him...well, that was certainly new.

But as he walked softly towards the entrance to the Zen garden, he saw his instincts had, once again, been correct. For a moment he considered leaving her, knowing what a private individual she was, but the pain was radiating off her in waves, her unhappiness bombarding him like hot tiny needles, and then he saw her shoulders shaking. With a few long strides, he was kneeling in front of her, taking her small hands in his.

“Delenn.”

She looked at him in surprise. “Captain...Jeff, what are you...?”

“I...I heard you,” he admitted. “You called to me, in my sleep.” He shook his head. “I can't explain it.” He studied her face. “What is it?”

Delenn considered lying to him, but only briefly. She realised as she looked into his eyes that she needed a friend, needed comfort that Lennier wasn't able to give. “I have been asked to appear before the Grey Council. Last year, they asked me to become the leader. I declined.” She spoke slowly, quietly, and Sinclair knew this was something she never spoke about with anyone, let alone a human, and he felt very privileged. He squeezed her hands in encouragement. “Now a new leader has been chosen and it seems that they wish to discuss my current role, both as a member of the Council and ambassador to Babylon 5.” She smiled at his confused expression. “It seems that my transformation has caused division amongst them.”

Sinclair shook his head. “That's ridiculous. Just because you look different doesn't mean you're a different person. Being part human now doesn't mean you're any less capable of being Satai or ambassador.”

Delenn's smile grew at his words. “If only everyone saw the world as you do, Jeff.”

“When do you leave?” he asked, unsure as to why the journey would cause her so much stress.

With her next words, he understood.

She looked away. “Shortly. But I...I am...afraid that I may not come back.” She turned back to him. “The Council has the power to strip me of my titles, my position – everything. They could confine me to Minbar and I....” Her voice faltered. “I would never see you or the others or this place ever again.”

Sinclair's expression became angry, his jaw clenched, and Delenn reached up and laid her hands against his cheeks. He wanted to tell her that would never happen; he wanted to promise the impossible, that whatever happened and wherever she was, he would find her and bring her home. He wanted to tell her that everything would be alright, but if the worst happened, he would miss her greatly; that she would leave a hole not only in his life, but his soul, one that could never be filled. But from her expression, Sinclair knew words were unnecessary; he knew she felt the same.

Abruptly, Delenn stood, almost knocking him flat on his back. “I must go. I....” Words stuck in her throat and a single tear slid down her face as she turned and fled from the garden, leaving Sinclair sat on the floor feeling utterly helpless.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Ah, Captain, I was just telling Captain Sheridan that we've had a spate of ships going missing recently in our sector,” Ivanova greeted Sinclair as he walked onto C&C.

He'd had some time to compose himself after Delenn's departure, though her absence still bothered him. “Raiders?” he asked, with a frown.

Sheridan shook his head. “I don't think so. The ships are random and a lot of them are alien as well, and as far as we can tell, carrying nothing of value to the Raiders.”

“I agree,” Ivanova said. “This sounds like something or someone else.”

“We should send a team out to investigate,” Sinclair suggested.

Ivanova caught the glint in his eyes which meant he wanted to be the one leading the team, but before she could say anything, Sheridan spoke up. “That's a great idea. In fact....” He took a step towards the door. “...I think I'll take the wing out myself.”

Sinclair immediately moved next to him. “That's an interesting idea, Captain. In fact, I had the same thought myself.”

“About me leading the investigation?” Sheridan asked, surprised.

Sinclair took another step towards the door. “No, I thought I'd do it.”

“It doesn't need both of us.”

“Are you sure?” Sinclair asked, managing to make the question sound like a challenge. “I mean, we don't know the severity of the situation.”

Sheridan swallowed the bait whole. “True. And if communications somehow end up down, I'd hate to make a decision without talking to you first.”

Sinclair tried not to smile; he also managed to keep his eyes averted from Ivanova's face, as she looked like she was ready for spitting neutrons. “So we're in agreement.”

“We are.”

“No, we are not!” Ivanova said hotly. “Captain... _Captains_ , I think this is a mistake of stupid proportions. Sirs. We have no idea what's out there....”

“Relax, Commander,” Sheridan said with an easy smile. “It's hardly a clear and present danger we're flying into. We're just going out to...to stretch our legs, have a bit of fun.” Then he winked at Sinclair, who winked back.

Ivanova threw her hands up in the air and stalked away, muttering to herself, “I think I preferred it when you were both fighting.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Garibaldi wandered onto the command deck and looked around. “It's quiet up here today,” he remarked. Ivanova glanced at him, clearly unimpressed by something, then looked away again. “What?”

“It's quiet because Captain Sinclair and Captain Sheridan have both gone off station to investigate missing ships, when in reality I think they're just involved in a pissing contest with each other,” she snapped. “I liked it better when they were at each other's throats.”

Garibaldi's eyes widened. “They went off...together?”

“That's what I said, Mr Garibaldi,” Ivanova replied impatiently. “Not only that, but Ambassador Delenn and Mr Lennier have also left the station. And with Ambassadors Mollari and G'Kar not speaking to each other, of course it's quiet around here!” She then smiled sweetly at him. “A nice change, don't you think?”

“Not really,” he said mildly.

“Oh, and did I mention that General Hague is coming for a visit? A member of the joint chiefs of staff and no one thought to tell me.” She stopped. “Did you know about this?”

“I'm as much in the dark as you are,” Garibaldi told her, a scowl starting to form on his face.

“Great. So no one thought to tell _us_.” Ivanova sighed.

“Feel better now?”

She smiled somewhat sheepishly at him. “A little. Sorry.”

Garibaldi smiled and shrugged. “Hey, no problem. So...were they bad when they left the station?”

Ivanova rolled her eyes. “Terrible. Showing off to each other like a pair of children. The worst part was I think the other pilots were enjoying the show.”

“What did the Captain say about Hague's visit?” Garibaldi asked, then froze. “Wait, which Captain did you talk to?”

“Sheridan. Why?”

“What about Sinclair? Did he know about Hague's visit?”

Ivanova frowned. “I don't know. He didn't say anything if he did. What is it?”

Garibaldi shook his head. “I'm not sure. Something.” Then he looked at her carefully. “If I understand it correctly, it was General Hague who told you _Commander_ Sinclair wasn't coming back.”

“Yes, he did.”

“That was a mean stunt to pull.”

Ivanova stared at him. “I will remind you, Mr Garibaldi, that you have done similar.”

“I know, that's what I'm afraid of,” Garibaldi replied. “You plan your revenge well. So, is there anything you want to warn me about regarding the General?”

Ivanova just smiled very sweetly in reply.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

As they arrived through the local jumpgate in the area the ships had gone missing, Sinclair took a deep breath. It was impossible to explain to anyone who didn't fly the feeling he got from being inside a StarFury. Of course, people got confused with the definition of 'freedom' when he used that word; they saw being confined inside a cockpit as the opposite of freedom. But to him, it was the ability to go anywhere he wanted, to move freely. It was a matter of pride at how well his reactions determined how the fighter moved, and here, in the openness of space, Sinclair decided to play for a while. He knew the others were scanning without being told to, and so far, they had detected nothing unusual; if they had, he would have known.

Along with his physical prowess, Sinclair had noticed that his training with the Rangers had made his reflexes sharper as well, which in turn made his piloting better.

_“Show off,”_ Sheridan voice sounded in the cock pit.

“Do I detect a hint of jealousy, Captain?” Sinclair asked good-naturedly.

_“Not at all, Captain. In fact, I'm a little disappointed that's all you've got.”_

“Who says it's all I've got?”

_“Show us better, than,”_ Sheridan challenged him.

Sinclair laughed. “You first, Captain.”

For the next few minutes, it was like the cares of the universe didn't exist as Sheridan and Sinclair engaged in a game of progressive one-upmanship, much to the amusement of the other pilots. Sinclair won in the end, although it was only by a margin; no one else, however, knew how much he held back, and the scope of his new found potential in so many areas was starting to scare him.

_“Alright, folks, show's over,”_ Sheridan said grumpily, the very image of a sore loser. _“Let's do our jobs and head back to the barn.”_

The minute the pilots had all given their agreement, Sinclair activated a private channel to the other Captain, all semblance of joviality gone. “When were you going to tell me about Hague's visit, Sheridan?” he demanded to know. “ _Were_ you even going to mention it to me, or just let me look like fool when he showed up?”

_“You don't need my help for that,”_ Sheridan responded calmly.

“Dammit, Sheridan, this isn't a game!” Sinclair snapped. “General Hague is one of the joint chiefs of staff. It's fine if you don't want to tell the other, but I'm not your subordinate, I'm your equal. I have a right to know!”

_“Hague told me it was a cordial, informal visit,”_ Sheridan said in exasperation. _“He didn't want any kind of fuss, and he told me he didn't want you know.”_

_“Captains!”_ Ramirez's urgent voice sounded over the intercom.

An alien ship had suddenly jumped into local space and before anyone could react, it attacked the squadron. “All fighters, evasive action!” Sinclair shouted, but he knew it was too late. The ship destroyed the StarFuries easily, swatting them like flies. He saw he was one of only three fighters left.

Then he saw Sheridan's fighter get hit.

The younger Captain's cockpit filled with sparks and he knew without a doubt that his StarFury was damaged beyond repair. Ejecting was an automatic reaction, though he had no doubt of his chances of survival in space. He twisted, trying to see who was left. Two fighters, one of which was definitely Sinclair's. He tried to remember who was in the other fighter. Ramirez? Whoever it was, the StarFury looked pretty banged up; Sheridan didn't rate his chances of survival either.

The ship suddenly fired at Sinclair's fighter.

_“NNOOOO!!!”_ Sheridan screamed.

Then there was just intense bright light, followed by pitch blackness.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova clasped her hands behind her back and waited. She was still upset with Sheridan about keeping Hague's visit a secret, but the fact that he wasn't back from his little expedition yet made her worry as well. And then she was upset with Sinclair for going with Sheridan when he was supposed to know better.... She shook her head. Alright, he didn't know better, but he had promised he wouldn't be as reckless.... Ivanova then sighed. Who was she trying to kid? And what had she been trying to prove when she asked Sinclair to behave more responsible? His recklessness was as much a part of him as his kind and gentle nature; to ask him not to run head first into danger any more was asking him to not be himself, and yet he had promised. Had really tried. For her.

The realisation hit Ivanova quite hard, and she decided that would be the first thing they talked about when they had a chance. As soon as he returned. If he returned....

She came to her senses and saluted as General Hague walked into the customs area. He smiled and saluted back, though it was a relaxed attempt. Though her dealings with him had been sparse, Ivanova had always liked Hague. He was an unassuming man, more interested in getting things done than the pomp and circumstance that unfortunately went with the rank. He achieved more things by asking his subordinates to do what he wanted instead of ordering them; in that respect, he very much reminded her of Sinclair.

“General. It's good to see you. I'm sorry for the lack of an honor guard, but I wasn't aware of your visit until a few hours ago, and Captain Sheridan insisted on not having one present.”

“That's alright, Commander, I've never gone in for all that anyway,” Hague said with a slight smile. “This is just a cordial visit. I don't want to interrupt the running of this station.” He then looked around, his features creasing slightly. “Where is Captain Sheridan? I assumed he would be here to meet me.”

Ivanova turned and started walking. “He and Captain Sinclair took out a fighter wing some time ago to investigate the mysterious disappearance of some ships. They should have been back by now,” she admitted.

Hague instantly detected the worry in her voice, and it went beyond that of someone worrying about their superior officer. It was more that of someone worrying about her friends; maybe even more, and he idly wondered which of the Captains could cause such a reaction in Ivanova, of all people. Although logically, he knew which one she was more preoccupied with; he had known from the moment he had given her the news several months ago.

_“Commander Sinclair will not be returning to Babylon 5....”_

He tried not to smile at the memory. He wasn't sure he had gotten away with his little trick, but she hadn't noticed a thing, although how she reacted after he had ended the call was anyone's guess.

“That's not like him, or Sinclair,” Hague said, rousing himself from his thoughts. “Neither of them would keep me waiting.”

Ivanova stored that piece of information away for later study. She was sure that Sinclair knew nothing about Hague's visit, yet the General was hinting that he did, and she started to wonder what game he was playing. She knew Hague had played an important part in getting Sinclair reassigned to Babylon 5, but why put him and Sheridan together? It made no sense, at least not to her. But it obviously did to Hague.

“I'm sure they'll be back soon, sir,” Ivanova said, trying to assure not only him, but herself.

Hague stopped and let her enter the transport tube first, like a gentleman. “They are both capable of taking care of themselves,” he agreed.

The doors shut and a silence descended. When he had first seen Ivanova, Hague had braced himself for a punch in the face that never came; and he was certain it wasn't just because he was a General. Ivanova was not known for respecting rank under certain situations and after what he had done, he had expected retribution to be inevitable. But perhaps that wasn't the case. Perhaps she had forgotten all about it. And he could have let the matter drop, except that wasn't his style.

“Commander, I feel I should apologise to you,” Hague said, turning to her.

“What about, sir?” Ivanova asked, but there was no confusion in her voice.

He smiled. “You know exactly what for. My little joke at your expense, telling you that Commander Sinclair wouldn't be returning, but Captain Sinclair would.” He shrugged. “In my position, it can be difficult to exercise a sense of humour so I take the chances when they appear. I hope you can forgive me.”

“You're a General, sir, so there isn't really much I can do about it,” Ivanova replied. “But I accept your apology.”

Hague looked at her. “Is that it? No payback of any kind at all? Ever?”

Ivanova then smiled at him. “I wouldn't say that, sir.”

Suddenly he felt the need to increase his security at all times.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

The light hurt Sheridan's eyes, even though they were closed. Instinctively he tried to move and found his entire body, from the neck downwards, was strapped to the table he lay on. He struggled briefly, but was too weak and exhausted. Not only that, but the emotional and mental pain was crippling.

Sinclair was dead.

Sheridan screwed his face up. How could he let that happen? Not now, not when they were so close to.... He shook his head. It didn't matter. All that mattered was continuing, out of respect to Sinclair's memory. The mission was important, the individual expendable. It didn't make the reality any easier.

Sheridan's eyes snapped open at the sound of machines and above him, a panel had opened and a series of automated instruments was descending. He knew that only meant one thing: torture.

Yet nothing would be as torturous as having to tell Ivanova that Sinclair was dead.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

It was, Delenn decided as she waited, arrogant presumption on her part that had led to the misunderstanding. She thought she was being summoned to discuss her change, not simply to receive judgement. It seemed wholly unfair to her, yet she knew that was how the Council operated. She should know, she had been a part of it for long enough. But no more.

Defiance, they called it. Prophecy, she retaliated. They hadn't listened then, they would not listen now.

She was Satai no longer.

But the role of ambassador, that was possibly something she could save, then at least she would still have a home; she would still be able to continue her work.

The shock hit Delenn without warning or reason, causing her to become breathless. She clasped her hands together and brought them to her chest, trying to calm herself so she could focus on the feeling. It wasn't close, it was far away, yet she recognised it; someone close to her was in danger.

Sheridan.

Sinclair.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova hardly noticed Hague's presence next to her on the command deck. True to his word, he hadn't interfered with station procedures at all, seemingly content to simply observe what was happening and to stare out of the view port. He was obviously as preoccupied with the Captains' tardiness as she was.

She turned to say something to him – what, she wasn't sure, but she figured anything was better than nothing – when a wave of dizziness came over her, light-headedness followed by darkness, and she gripped the railing tight.

“Commander, are you alright?” Hague asked, gripping her elbow to steady her.

Ivanova wanted to say no. She wanted to tell him that something terrible had happened to Sinclair and Sheridan; she just didn't know what. Instead, she straightened and shook her head as if to clear it. “I don't know, I....”

“Commander, we've got a ship coming through the gate,” Corwin informed her. “It's one of our StarFuries.”

“One?” Hague echoed with concern.

Ivanova immediately tapped her console. “The fighter is in critical condition. I don't even know how he made it back,” she said, shaking her head again. “The pilot is also in critical condition, he....” She stopped, her face turning pale. “C&C to med lab.”

_“Franklin here.”_

“Doctor, I need you in the docking bay immediately with a med team, make sure you're geared for radiation poisoning. We've got an incoming pilot who needs immediate treatment.” She paused. “It's Ramirez.”

There was a hesitation before Franklin replied. _“On my way.”_

“I take it he was part of the escort wing with Captains Sheridan and Sinclair,” Hague said.

Ivanova nodded. “Yes, he was.”

“Which leads us to ask what happened? And where are the others?”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

He opened his eyes carefully, pain lancing his body. He tried to stretch and found with relief that his bindings had come undone. He rolled from the table and landed heavily on the floor with a grunt. This wasn't the first time he had been captured and tortured, and he was enjoying it about as much as he had before. He first thought as he pushed himself to his feet was escaping; in his mind, that was the first and only job of a prisoner, along with survival.

He gingerly probed his body; a few cracked ribs, multiple abrasions and contusions all over his chest and face, and a long deep gash down his thigh, making him limp. As he walked around the room, the blood ran freely down his leg, making his footsteps squish.

He sensed before he heard or saw the presence of someone else in the room. They hadn't arrived by a door or secret entrance; more like a flash of light that made him doubly uneasy. But he knew beyond a reasonable doubt he would be able to defend himself against any attacker.

For the first time since he had taken on the role, Sinclair was glad for his Ranger training.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Hey.”

Ivanova looked up to see Garibaldi at the end of the table. “Mr Garibaldi.”

He slid into the chair opposite her. “How you doing?”

She shrugged. “I hate feeling this helpless,” she admitted.

“I know. Me too.”

“How's Ramirez?” she asked, though she was already certain of the answer.

Garibaldi looked away, pained. “He did. Doc couldn't save him. Radiation poisoning. Kid never stood a chance”

Ivanova shook her head. “How is Stephen?”

“He took it hard. He always does, but when it's someone he knows....” The security guard looked at her. “We were joking with Ramirez about the baseball play-offs right before he went on that mission. Stephen bet him thirty credits that....” He broke off. “It doesn't matter now.”

She laid a hand on his arm. “I know it's hard.”

He covered it briefly and squeezed. “I know. But what about you? This is harder on you because...well, you know.”

Ivanova nodded in understanding. “It doesn't help that General Hague is on board, although you'd hardly notice he was here.”

“He does tend to blend into the shadows,” Garibaldi agreed.

“What do you make of this kidnapping?”

“I don't know. I mean, usually, something like this happens, we know what we're looking for, but this?” He shook his head. “It's completely alien. We have no idea who they are, where they're from or where they're going, or even what they want. We're completely in the dark.”

“I know. I'm asking the other ambassadors if they can help us out.” Ivanova smiled briefly. “It's funny, they won't cooperate under any other circumstances, yet Sinclair and Sheridan are missing and they all jump into action and work together.”

“The Captains have that effect on people,” Garibaldi replied.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair leant against the table, breathing heavily. While his training had certainly helped him survive for longer than he would have been able to before, he was starting to tire after the countless number of controlled prisoners he had been forced to fight with, and the wound on his bicep was making his entire right arm seize up. He hadn't seen what had happened to Sheridan's cockpit after the other Captain ejected from his StarFury, but he hoped and prayed he was alive, possibly even on the ship somewhere. And if that was the case, Sinclair knew he too would be looking for an escape route.

He waited, aware that another combatant would appear any moment, but as time dragged by, he realised that none were forthcoming. Perhaps there were no more prisoners left, a thought that left him with a hollow feeling inside. Or it could have been that the aliens on the ship were calculating what to do next.

As if on queue, every light in the room went out, leaving Sinclair utter pitch black. He tried to still his breathing, tried to ignore the sound of his own thudding heartbeat to focus on the other noises he could hear. The far away hum of engines and machinery. The hiss of air being filtered into the room. The sound of the blood rushing through his veins. The hiss of air being filtered into the room....

“No!” Sinclair exclaimed, suddenly realising what was happening. He dropped the pipe in his hands, grabbed the sides of his head and screwed his eyes shut. “No.”

Nothing.

Then he sensed it. Other beings in the room with him. Reluctantly, against his will, he opened his eyes. Spotlights appeared on figures in grey robes forming a circle around him.

“No, not again,” Sinclair muttered.

One of the figures levelled a staff at him, and the torture began all over again.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Delenn emerged slowly from the council chamber. She had always believed that her own people were more evolved than others, but now she could see what a lie that was. The same ugliness she had always thought marred other races was just as present in Minbari, as she had just witnessed. The open hostility with which Neroon addressed her was shocking, as was his addition to the Grey Council. She knew she had acted on prophecy, not ego, yet the council no longer seemed to accept any of the prophecies; for whatever reason, they now chose to ignore Valen's words.

Lennier was waiting for her and he bowed respectfully. “Satai Delenn.”

She forced a smile. “No, Lennier. Not any more. Just...Delenn.”

“You will never be 'just' Delenn,” he told her truthfully.

She smiled at his honesty and they spoke for a few moments about what had happened and what that meant for him also. As she knew he would, Lennier promised to stay with her no matter what, and although she knew he wasn't fully aware of what he was saying, she was grateful for his loyalty.

“Come, we must return to Babylon 5 immediately,” Delenn said, taking his arm. “I fear there is a grave situation unfolding and they may need our help.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Commander, any word on that alien ship yet?” Hague asked.

Ivanova looked up and shook her head. “No identification as of yet, sir, but we have had confirmed sightings of it a few more times. It seems it jumps into normal space, attacks the ships there, and takes whatever survivors it can find. Very much a hit and run pattern which makes it hard to track it.”

“Commander, we've got a ship coming through the jumpgate,” Corwin told her, then turned with a stunned expression on his face. “It's the Agamemnon.”

Ivanova turned to Hague, who was smiling. “I called her in to help with the search. She was nearby and I understand that one of the missing Captains is very dear to the crew,” he said mildly.

“I'm sure Captain Sheridan will appreciate the gesture.”

He held her gaze. “I trust that when we find the ship, you'll take a fighter wing out yourself?”

“I hadn't thought about it, sir,” Ivanova replied, his question catching her off guard.

“It makes sense, Commander. After all, I wouldn't want Captain Sinclair to feel as though he's being left out.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair slumped in a corner of the room, his knees drawn up to his chest. He was bone weary and now just wanted the torment to be over; after having to relive his treatment at the hands of the Minbari during the war, he decided he would rather suffer the physical torture than the mental. He was tired of having people playing with his brain, tired of being made to remember things he would much rather forget. The air seemed clear now, whatever drugs they had released gone, and the lights were back on, for which he was glad; he wasn't looking forward to sleeping in the dark, and he did need sleep.

But when his eyes started to droop, Sinclair fought it, unwilling to surrender to slumber. “Relax, Jeff, you need to sleep. I promise I'll protect you,” Ivanova said, and though he could hear her, he couldn't see her.

“Great. Now I'm just hearing voices instead of hallucinating,” Sinclair muttered.

“No, you're not. This is real. Close your eyes.”

Trusting the voice, though he knew he probably shouldn't, Sinclair did as he was told and immediately fell asleep. Images tumbled through his mind one after another, until they slowed, allowing him to see and hear what was going on.

Ivanova appeared then, looking pale and worried. “Do you know who I am?” she asked.

Before he could reply, she was replaced by Garibaldi, who said, “The man in between is searching for you.”

Sinclair could only stare in confusion, which grew when the next person he saw was Sheridan is a Psi Corps uniform. Although the image chilled him, he also took it as a good sign that the other Captain was still alive.

“This isn't real,” he muttered eventually.

“What is real?”

Sinclair turned to see Kosh. “Not this,” he replied.

“Reality is what your mind creates. This is as real as you make it.”

Sinclair laughed then. “Now I know this isn't real, Ambassador, because you never give anyone a straight answer. You always talk in riddles.”

“The riddles are the answers if you know how to listen. You have always heard me, but only now are you willing to listen.”

“Why am I here?” he asked.

“You have always been here,” Kosh replied.

And it was only then that Sinclair realised he was actually _seeing_ the Vorlon, not just the encounter suit. Strangely, it didn't fill him with a sense of awe or surprise; it was like he had always known what Kosh really looked like. The Vorlon's expression became distant for a moment; Sinclair had no idea that he was conducting a similar conversation with Sheridan on another part of the ship.

“I feel like it,” Sinclair admitted. “Sometimes...sometimes I feel so damned _old_.”

Kosh tilted his head in an oddly human gesture, contemplating his next words. “The future is unfolding as the past predicted. What has happened will be again. You are the One.”

_“Not the One. Can't talk, won't talk. Not the One.”_

Strange words from a strange creature on a strange mission. The reappearance and subsequent disappearance again of Babylon 4. Zathras' words to Sinclair. How odd that Kosh would use them too.

He turned to ask the Vorlon about it, only to find he had gone. Not knowing whether it was real or just a drug-induced dream, Sinclair sighed and fell back into slumber.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova wrapped her hands around her coffee mug and tried to concentrate, but it was difficult. Her mind kept going over worst case scenarios, supplying her with images she neither needed nor wanted.

“Here, I thought you could use this.” Franklin slid a piece of cake across the table.

“A little early for cake, Doctor,” Ivanova replied. “And what happened to the diet? Getting us to eat healthy?”

He shrugged, his expression sombre. “I figured there's an exception to every rule.”

“I hope you brought two forks. It looks like I need to share this,” she said with a smile.

Franklin smiled back and handed her one fork while he grabbed the spoon from her coffee. “Still no word?”

Ivanova shook her head. “I'm worried that the longer it takes to get any information, the less chance we have of finding them.”

“They'll be alright, Susan,” Franklin told her, though his words sounded hollow to his ears.

“We don't know that. And even if they do survive, I think I'll kill them myself! I _told_ them it was a bad idea both of them going on this mission. I objected and they ignored me, and now look where it's got them.”

“You know it wouldn't have made any difference if one of them had stayed here.”

“Yes, but then we'd only be missing _one_ Captain, not both of them.”

“Susan,” Franklin started to say, but Ivanova cut him off.

“Please don't, Stephen. Don't tell me they'll be alright. You don't know that, no one does.”

“You're right, we don't. But I know Sinclair. He's a fighter, he won't give up. He'll find a way to either let us know where they are or to escape. And I think Sheridan is the same. That's what I know. Just as I know that we _will_ rescue them.”

Ivanova smiled in appreciation but before she could speak, her link beeped. “Yes?”

_“Commander, we've got an urgent message coming through from Ambassador Delenn. She says she has information on the race that took the Captains.”_

“I'll be right there,” Ivanova replied, then looked at Franklin, whose expression was one of 'see? I told you'. She laid her hand on his should as she passed him. “Thank you, Stephen.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan had been starting to lose hope in the situation when the wall next to him shifted and moved, revealing it to be a door which was now open a fraction. Getting to his knees, he peered underneath, then looked around for something to lever it open further with. If they could just create a big enough gap, they could slip under it and escape. He looked over at his Narn companion, glad that he wasn't alone in this any more, but still pained by the loss of Sinclair.

He grabbed the weapon he had used to fight with and pushed it under the door. He leant on it, trying to apply some strength, but he had none left. The Narn woke up and came to help him, and the door budged slightly just as the ship shuddered.

“That feels like we've jumped to normal space,” Sheridan said, and the Narn nodded in agreement.

There was another shudder, this time more violent, but before Sheridan could process what was happening, there was a flash of light and a being appeared in the room. He could only stare in shock.

“Sinclair?!”

Sinclair had no idea what had just happened; he only saw two figures in grey robes in front of him and was determined that his ill treatment was going to come to an end here and now. One of the figures stood rooted to the spot as if in shock, but the other laboured to his feet and moved forward. With frightening speed, Sinclair aimed an elbow as the figure's face, followed swiftly by a foot in his solar plexus, and a double-handed chop to the back of his neck. He crumpled to the ground and lay there, still.

Sheridan could only watch in shock as Sinclair downed the Narn with ease and then started to advance on him. He looked for any signs of an interface on the other Captain's head, a sign he was being controlled, but there was none. “Sinclair, listen to you. Whatever's going on, however they're controlling you, you've got to fight this!” Sheridan started to back away, being careful not to make any sudden moves. “Your name is Jeffrey Sinclair, rank Captain. You're the commanding officer of Babylon 5.”

“Lies!” Sinclair roared, lunging for Sheridan. But the wounds he had sustained, particularly the one of his leg, were beginning to slow him down and the younger Captain escaped, but barely. And he realised that despite Sinclair's injuries, he was still a strong adversary; more than a match for Sheridan.

The younger Captain pulled a face. “Alright, technically, that's true.” He ducked away from a punch. “You share command of the station with me. But....”

The uppercut was vicious and not something he saw coming at all. It caught him squarely under the jaw and lifted him clean off his feet. He landed heavily on his back, the air rushing out of his lungs. “Think about your friends!” Sheridan shouted. “Think about Stephen and Michael. Think about Delenn!”

The sound from Sinclair was inhuman and he was suddenly on the younger Captain, delivering lightning quick punches and jabs and elbows to every part of his body he could reach. It was all Sheridan could do to try and protect himself, but when he saw the look on Sinclair's face, he realised his counterpart meant to kill him. Clearly there was something about Delenn's name that provoked the wrong feelings in Sinclair, which confused Sheridan but he wasn't about to dwell on it in that moment. He had only one tactic left, one chance to make the other Captain see sense so they could escape before they were blown up, as he had no doubt that the frequent shudders of the ship meant they were under attack.

“Jeff, listen to me. Listen to my voice. You might hate me, you might want to kill me. You might even hate Delenn, though I don't know why. But I know you don't hate Susan.”

Sinclair froze as if someone had administered an electric shock. “Susan?”

Sheridan took a deep breath, wincing at the pain coursing through his body. “Yes, Susan. I know you care about her a lot, Jeff. Maybe even more than you're supposed to. And I know she feels the same way. I also understand that you can't choose who you care for, and that both of you are committed to your careers. I'm not going to cause trouble for you.” He took another breath, aware he was drifting in the conversation. “Susan will be waiting for you to come home, Jeff. She's waiting to see you again, and I know you don't want to let her down. So stop beating the crap out of me, come to your senses, and let's get the hell out of here!”

As if looking through a fog, the figure beneath Sinclair changed from a grey robed figure to a bloody and battered Sheridan. “What the...?” He struggled to get up, panic taking hold of him.

“Easy, Jeff. Easy. It's worse than it looks,” Sheridan assured him, correctly interpreting Sinclair's expression. He extended his hand. “Help me up. We need to get out of here.”

Sinclair reluctantly hauled the other Captain to his feet. “I'm sorry, John, I....”

Sheridan waved his apology aside. “Later. Right now, we need to get out of here,” he repeated, then looked at his counterpart properly. “Looks like you've been through hell. You gonna be okay?”

The older Captain nodded, then saw the Narn on the floor. “Is he...?”

“Unconscious. And a friend. Let's get the door open all the way, then get him to his feet. It feels like we're under attack and I don't know how much time we've got before all hell breaks loose.”

Sinclair stared at him. “What do you call this?” he asked in a slightly incredulous tone.

Sheridan's answering grin was tight. “Minor inconvenience. Let's go.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Streib. That, apparently, was the name of the race who had taken the Captains. Delenn had informed her that they had encountered the Streib before, but the Minbari had chased them all the way back to their homeworld into order to teach them the depth of their mistake. There was a fire in the Minbari's eyes as she spoke, one that made Ivanova shudder. It seemed that Delenn had taken the kidnapping of the Captains almost as personally as she had, and would ensure their return at any cost. In fact, she was glad the Minbari woman was with her, like she appreciated the help of the Agamemnon, even if Hague was on board the ship.

It had been an odd conversation before they had left Babylon 5. Hague had ordered Ivanova to go and bring the Captains back, then told her he would be coming along as an observer and that she would be in charge of both the fighter squadron and the Agamemnon; any order she gave on this mission, the ship's Captain would follow without question. Ivanova had been too wired to think it through properly or argue, though somewhere at the back of her mind, she was grateful to Hague for what he was offering.

And now they had found the ship that had taken Sinclair and Sheridan, orbiting the Streib homeworld. She just hoped they were still alive.

_“This is Ambassador Delenn of the Minbari. You remember us just as we remember you and what we told you before still stands true now. This sector of space is not for you. We would have thought you learnt your lesson last time,”_ Delenn said in a steely voice. _“Release your prisoners and maybe we will let you live.”_

Ivanova never admired Delenn more than in that moment, but as she watched, something emerged from the Streib vessel. Bodies, she released with horror. They had spaced the prisoners. Blind rage overtook her and she shouted over the comm channel, “Bastards! Take them down! Now!”

The Agamemnon didn't hesitate before firing, the StarFuries joining in, and it didn't take long until the Streib ship was completely destroyed, the immediate space littered with debris. Ivanova felt furious and numb at the same time. Sinclair was gone. Sheridan was gone. They hadn't been in time to save them. Then she noticed her instruments were detecting a life pod. With a grim expression, she turned her fighter around with the intention of blasting it to hell, and she saw a couple of other StarFuries had the same idea.

Then she detected a signal coming for it. And there was something strange about it....

“Wait!” Ivanova shouted. “This is Ivanova to all ships, do not, I repeat, do _not_ fire upon the life pod.” A broad, relieved grin broke out on her face. “It's the Captains!”

She cut the comms line before she broke down. Her excitement was short lived as she realised that all the signal told her for sure was that _one_ of them was alive.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Aboard the Agamemnon, Hague turned to the Captain. “Do you have docking space for a two ships?” he asked.

“Small ones, yes, sir.”

“Good. Send a communication to Ambassador Delenn, inviting her onboard, and order Commander Ivanova to dock with us.”

“Sir?” the captain said, confused.

Hague just looked at him. “Trust me, it will be for the best.”

The captain nodded and moved off to complete his orders. Hague clasped his hands behind his back and looked out into space. He had eyes and he knew how to use them to observe things most people would miss, but more than that, he had ears and knew how to listen, and what he had heard on Babylon 5 intrigued him. Clearly it was like no other outpost, and he felt that was a good thing. There were also complex relationships at play which would only become more clouded after this incident, he knew.

And after he had completed his mission; after he had done what he had really arrived to do.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova met Delenn in the docking area of the Agamemnon. The two women rushed to each other and clasped each other's arms. “Susan, have you...?”

She shook her head. “I know the same as you, Delenn.”

“But are they both...?”

That was the one question she did know the answer to, after insisting to the point of getting violent. “They're both alive. Injured, but they'll be fine.” She smiled a little as they started to walk. “Apparently, though, they're both refusing treatment. They say they would rather have Dr Franklin look at them when we get back.”

“I'm sure that is something the doctor would insist on anyway,” Delenn replied. “I am sorry we could not save the other prisoners, Commander.”

“So am I. But we did save three.”

“Three?”

So Ivanova did know a little more than Delenn, she realised. “Apparently the Captains rescued a Narn as well.”

Delenn nodded. “Good.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence until they reached the med lab facility, and then the scene was one of slight chaos. Sheridan noticed them first, his eyes darting from Delenn to Ivanova and back again, unsure whether he was going to get yelled at, hugged or punched. Gently, he touched Sinclair's shoulder. The older Captain turned, his reaction slightly different. It was clear he was haunted by his ordeal, though what exactly had happened to him, Sheridan wasn't sure. They hadn't had much time to talk yet, but he suspected they would.

Ivanova finally broke the silent stalemate by walking up to them both. “For the record, I told you so. And the next time you want to do something so stupid, at least include me,” she said, her emotions barely contained.

Sheridan reached out and put his hand on her shoulder, while Sinclair took hold of the opposite forearm. “I'm sorry, Susan.”

“So am I.”

“There's only one person allowed to kill you, and that's me,” Ivanova told them, tears starting to fall.

Sheridan withdrew his hand and nodded at Sinclair as he moved away. He didn't need to watch to know that the older Captain had drawn Ivanova into a careful embrace. It wouldn't last long, it was far too public for either of them, but it was what was needed.

Delenn looked at Sheridan, her expression a mask. “Ambassador, thank you for your help.”

“You are welcome, Captain, although the next time you find yourself in a similar situation, I may be forced to take a leaf out of Commander Ivanova's book,” she replied with a smile.

Sheridan could only stare. Unsure what to do with his hands, he jammed them into his pockets and looked for all the world like a naughty school getting a lecture.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Once back on the station, things returned somewhat to normal – or they did after Garibaldi had spoken his piece to the Captains as well. Franklin took special care in treating their injuries and also finished flushing the toxins out of Sinclair's system. Sheridan made sure the Narn was settled and then the two Captains walked out together.

“Captain, I'm sorry for attacking you. The Streib had drugged me through the air, I didn't know who you were,” Sinclair said.

“I kind of guessed that,” Sheridan replied ruefully. “Apology accepted, Captain. It isn't something I'm going to hold against you.” He hesitated. “I thought you were dead, you know. I saw your fighter get hit right before they took me and I thought....”

Sinclair nodded. “I understand. I guess we were lucky.”

Sheridan grunted. “If that's what you want to call it.” He glanced sideways at the other Captain. “How's Ivanova?”

“Still annoyed at both of us but she'll get over it.”

“And Delenn?”

“The same.”

“Maybe you should talk to her,” Sheridan suggested.

“Maybe you should,” Sinclair shot back.

Sheridan's expression shifted. “I...have a meeting.”

“I see.”

“In fact, if you'll excuse me, Captain.” Sheridan hurried off, leaving Sinclair to frown at him.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Captain, I am glad to see you are on your feet,” Delenn greeted him.

Sinclair smiled and limped into her quarters. “Thank you, Ambassador.” Some days it amused him how polite and respectful they were in public, and yet so informal as soon as the door closed. “Thank you for your help.”

“It was the least I could do. Please, Jeff, sit.”

Sinclair lowered himself carefully onto the sofa. Despite Franklin's best efforts, it would be at least a week before he was back to peak fitness. “How did your meeting go?”

Delenn looked surprised. “It was....”

“Please don't lie to me, Delenn,” Sinclair interrupted her, his voice soft. “I can see it in your eyes. What happened?”

And so she told him everything, even the parts she had omitted to Lennier. She cried a little and Sinclair held her hand, staying silent throughout.

“Delenn, I'm only going to say this once. You are beautiful.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

“So Neroon has replaced you on the Council, tipping the balance of power to the Warrior Caste.”

“Yes. It is a worrying move.”

Sinclair nodded. “I didn't want to say anything, but Neroon has been paying extremely close attention to the Ranger training lately. At first, he would stop by for a few moments to observe, but now it seems like he's looking for something. Is he likely to cause a problem for us?”

“I do not know,” Delenn admitted. “The Star Riders has always been the most militant of the Warrior Caste, as you know, and you have met Neroon before. You know what he is like.”

“I do, that's why I'm asking.”

“I can arrange for better protection of you while you are on Minbar....”

“My own safety doesn't concern me, Delenn,” Sinclair told her. “I'm worried about the other Rangers. Neroon is Warrior Caste; what if he feels he should be leading the Rangers and decides to take action?”

Delenn's face paled. “Then we are all doomed.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

He sat quietly in his quarters, jacket off, drink held in his hands but untouched. He simply waited for the visitor he knew would arrive eventually; he simply waited for his meeting. Maybe now, after six months, he could stop lying; maybe now, after all this time, they could actually start moving forwards.

The chimes sounded.

“Come.”

Hague walked into the room and he started to stand. “No, no. Stay where you are. You've had a rough time of it. How are you feeling?”

“Better, sir.”

“Good.” Hague took out a jamming device and activated it. “Just in case the room is bugged.”

He surged to his feet then, wincing slightly in pain. “It's about time someone came to debrief me. I've been here for six months without a word from anyone!” he exclaimed in frustration.

Hague almost smiled; the conversation was very similar to one he had just been through. “Captain, I assure you, it was for the best. After the rumors surrounding the death of President Santiago, we had to determine who was loyal and who could have been involved. If it was a coup, then the conspirators had to have help from within the military,” he explained.

Sinclair glared. “I know all this, dammit. I'm the one who brought this matter to your attention in the first place!”

“Tone, Captain,” Hague reminded him sharply.

“Sorry, sir.”

“Have you managed to find anything out?”

“I think that Psi Corps could be involved.” Sinclair explained about Jack's little salute, the same as Bester's, and the fact that the man who tried to murder Garibaldi had been sent back to Earth on Clark's orders, only to disappear.

“I heard about that and wondered if the rumors were true,” Hague said.

“We also have a security guard here who has been offered a place on Clark's private guard.”

“Do you trust him?”

“Mr Garibaldi does, and I trust him.”

Hague nodded. “If you think he'll be of use, encourage him to take the position.” He then studied Sinclair carefully. “I see you and Sheridan have settled your differences.”

“For the most part. It helped that he was honest with me some time ago,” Sinclair replied.

“I know, he told me.”

“He explained he hated having to spy on them, and told me that he knew we were all loyal to Earth, as was he.”

“I can vouch for Captain Sheridan, Captain Sinclair,” Hague said. “If you trust me then you can trust him.”

“I trusted him before this meeting,” Sinclair admitted. “He's proved himself to me and to this station. Although not everyone is aware how well we are getting along.”

Now Hague did smile. “Yes, he told me about your little subterfuge. Keep it up.” He then sighed. “Captain, do you know why you are both here?”

“I think so, sir. Clark believes Sheridan is loyal to him, whereas he suspects I could turn in an instant,” Sinclair replied. “He thinks that I'll try to investigate what happened to Santiago and he's put Sheridan here to make sure the truth never sees the light of day. But he doesn't know what Sheridan is actually loyal to you, General, and that you don't believe Santiago's death was an accident either.”

Hague nodded, pleased. “Correct in every way, Captain. I believe that here, Sheridan can operate free from close scrutiny from Clark, and that you can help with that smoke screen. With you providing false leads, it will take Clark's people away from what we're actually doing.”

“Which is?”

“It's time we uncovered the truth about President Santiago's death. It was no accident and I'm going to prove it,” Hague said with conviction. “Sheridan has already pledged himself to the cause and now I ask you to stand with me as well.”

“If I do, we all do,” Sinclair replied, referring to his senior staff.

“I would expect nothing less.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

_“Who is it?”_

Ivanova stared into thin air. “Who is it? Pizza delivery, who do you think it is?” she replied sarcastically. The door opened and she rolled her eyes, but stopped short when she entered the room. “I see he also roused you both out of bed too.”

Garibaldi and Franklin, both bleary eyed, nodded in agreement. Sinclair sat in the armchair looking worn out. “Susan, please. Sit.” He waited until she had wedged herself between the security guard and the doctor before taking the jamming device Hague had left and activating, tossing it to Garibaldi for his scrutiny. “It's time I was honest with you all, and before I begin, I apologise for keeping you in the dark but it was necessary. President Santiago's death was no accident. We all know this. But we're not the only ones. General Hague is part of group who is dedicated to finding out the truth, no matter where it leads, and he wants our help.”

“Excuse me, Captain, but shouldn't we wait for Captain Sheridan?” Franklin suggested.

“No,” Sinclair replied, then sighed heavily. “Sheridan is a mole, planted here by Clark to spy on us.”

“What?” Garibaldi exclaimed.

Ivanova shook her head. “I don't believe it.”

“It's true,” Sinclair told them. “Clark wanted someone loyal in charge of this station so that he could control information, public opinion...he wants all the power he can get. But Hague was able to send me back as well because I told him I had information regarding the collaboration of alien governments against Earth. It was a weak lie, but it worked. In reality, Hague wanted me here because he knew it was us who discovered Santiago's murder first.”

Garibaldi looked at him. “What can we do, though? With Sheridan here, watching our every move....”

“Maybe we should talk to him,” Franklin suggested. “People aren't always what they seem.”

“I agree. Maybe Clark just _thinks_ Sheridan is loyal to him,” Ivanova agreed.

To their great surprise, Sinclair smiled. “I told you so,” he said in a slightly louder than necessary voice.

The doors to his bedroom opened and Sheridan walked in. “Thank you for your vote of confidence.”

Garibaldi looked at Ivanova. “Do you want to do the honours?”

Sinclair held his hand up, still smiling. “There will be no threatening of violence towards either of us. I think we've both had our fair share for the time being.”

“So what now?” Franklin asked, intrigued.

Sinclair looked at Sheridan, inviting him to take over. “General Hague has decided to pursue the truth, no matter where it takes him. And we've both agreed to help that cause. We'd like you to join us.”

“I'm in,” Garibaldi said without hesitation, as Sinclair knew he would.

Franklin nodded. “So am I.”

Ivanova looked around the room and shrugged. “I never did know when to butt out.”

Sinclair looked at Sheridan again. “I told you so,” he repeated.

“Yes, you did,” he replied in a tone of surrender.

They talked for a while longer, about what needed to happen and how they could all help. Secrecy and misdirection was essential, and it was important that they worked together in order to pull this off. Despite the seriousness of the conversation, the atmosphere was relaxed, that of friends not officers, and at some point, Sinclair got the feeling they could actually pull this off.

It was Sheridan who finally called it a night. “I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted. I'll see you all in the morning.”

Franklin stood. “I'll walk out with you.”

“Me too,” Garibaldi said, joining them.

Ivanova stood more slowly and walked towards the door with them, but as they left, she stayed. Sinclair misinterpreted her hesitation. “Susan, I'm sorry I couldn't tell you.”

Then she was in front of him, shaking her head. “I understand, and it isn't that.”

“Then what?”

“You're tired and you're injured. You need to rest.”

“I will.”

Ivanova then folded her arms defiantly. “I'm not leaving. You were kidnapped and tortured _again_ , Jeff. I'm not letting you out of my sight.”

Sinclair looked at her with deep affection. “Is there any chance I'm going to win this argument?”

“No, because it isn't an argument. I'm exercising my privilege as your second-in-command to relieve you of duty when I think you need rest, and this definitely counts.”

He held his hands up in surrender. “You win.”

“Naturally.”

TBC


	37. 212 Acts of Sacrifice

_July 2259_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

The atmosphere in the office was subdued, each officer occupied with their own thoughts on what G'Kar had just shown them. The Centauri weren't just winning the war; it seemed as though they were embarking on a mission of complete annihilation of the Narns. And despite Londo's message – delivered by BabCom, not in person – that the transport ships had weapons and the Narns were using civilians as shields, no one in the room could mistake what they had just seen. A G'Quan class heavy cruiser had sacrificed itself to allow a civilian transport to escape after the Centauri attacked a colony without warning. Despite Londo's assertion that their actions were just, it was clear to the EarthForce officers that the Centauri would have killed every single Narn if the fleet hadn't arrived in time to evacuate them.

“What are the chances of Earthdome agreeing to help the Narns?” Garibaldi asked after a while.

“Fifty-fifty,” Sinclair replied in a subdued voice. “They either will or they won't.”

His ordeal the previous week at the hands of the Streib had left its mark on the older Captain. He was thinner, his hair greyer, and he was still having trouble with the healing injuries on his arm and leg. But more than that, it was the haunted look in his eyes. It had gone unnoticed by no one that Ivanova had sat as close to him as humanly possible, regardless of how it might look to others; it seemed all she cared about was making sure he was alright, and it was a reasonable assumption Sinclair had told her everything. Sheridan watched her watch him and even though he knew he should point out the possible consequences, he simply couldn't have cared less. As far as he was concerned, they weren't hurting anyone, and he had more pressing concerns to worry about.

“What can we do to help?” Ivanova asked, looking around the room.

Sheridan shrugged. “From where I stand, not a lot, not without putting Earth and Babylon 5 in a difficult position.”

“It seems to me that G'Kar has already decided that the Earth Alliance will help,” Franklin pointed out.

“I'm not responsible for what he assumes,” Sheridan replied.

Garibaldi leant forward, an intent expression on his face. “There is one thing we can do,” he said. “And that's protect the Narns who are already on this station. We all know how ugly this could get, even if we don't want to admit it. So far, since Babylon 5 went operational, we've never had a single incident between the Narns and the Centauri, not one.”

Sinclair almost looked amused. “Are you forgetting Londo and G'Kar?”

Garibaldi pulled a face. “Fine. Ignoring those two, the general populations of both races have coexisted peacefully for almost three years. All that could change in an instant. The Narns could feel on more equal terms with the Centauri here and start fighting back. The Centauri could decide it's their right to eliminate all the Narns on board, and really, what's the worst we could do? Send them all back to Centauri Prime?”

“You're a ray of sunshine, Michael,” Franklin said dryly.

“I'm just being realistic,” Garibaldi replied. “They're at war, and like it or not, we're caught squarely in the middle. If Earthdome does decide to pick sides – either side – we need to be prepared for the consequences.”

Sinclair nodded his agreement. “Put on more security, but subtly, Michael. I don't want to create a panic. And tell your people to be careful; this is a delicate situation and they may have to make some tough calls.”

The security chief nodded as he stood. “Will do.” 

“We should all be alert for any changes within the Narn and Centauri populations,” Sheridan said. “If something is going to happen, the more warning we have, the better.”

Ivanova and Franklin nodded their agreement and stood as well, although the Commander moved from Sinclair's side with obvious reluctance. Quietly, they walked out of the office together, leaving the Captains to stare at the ceiling.

“I don't like this,” Sheridan said, frowning. “I don't know about you but I can already guess what Earthdome's answer will be, and it won't be 'yes'. If it was, they would have stepped forwards by now. And if Earth Alliance refuses to help the Narns, none of the other races will do. We could be dooming them to extinction if we don't help them.”

“I think you're being a little dramatic, Sheridan,” Sinclair told him mildly. “And before I forget, the Lumati want to come to Babylon 5 to open negotiations for an alliance.”

The younger Captain didn't here him. “Dramatic?” he repeated indignantly. “Sinclair, have you been reading the same reports I have? Did you just watch the same video I did? The Centauri have a stronger force and a belligerent....” He stopped abruptly and stared at the other Captain. “The Lumati?”

Sinclair smiled. “Let's table the Narn-Centauri situation for the time being, at least until we hear back from Earth. Once we have their answer, then we can move forwards.”

“The Lumati?” Sheridan replied, now looking uneasy.

He nodded. “I received word just before coming to this meeting, they feel that an alliance with Earth could be mutually beneficial to both races.”

Sheridan then tried to put his poker face on. “What do you know about the Lumati?” he asked casually.

Sinclair wasn't fooled for an instant. “I've heard the same rumours you have about how they conclude successful negotiations.”

“Good, then you know best how to deal with the situation. I'll leave it in your hands,” Sheridan said hurriedly, standing.

Sinclair laughed and was on his feet with surprising speed. “I don't think so, Captain. Look, on of us has to deal with it, but let's not argue about it. We can settle this like adults.”

The younger Captain stared at him suspiciously. “What did you have in mind?”

“Rock-paper-scissors”

The stare turned blank. “I have no idea what that is, but it sounds stupid, like flipping a coin or something....” He broke off suddenly and held his hand out.

Sinclair, knowing instantly what Sheridan was going to do, extended his hand at the same time. “Scissors beats paper,” he said with a grin, slapping the other Captain's hand down. “Good luck, Captain.”

Sheridan flopped back down on to the sofa and glowered for a while after Sinclair had left. He couldn't decline the offer of an alliance, not if he wanted to keep his job, and yet it caused serious problems for him. If the ambassador was female, then maybe.... He shook his head viciously. It was still too strange to consider. But no, the Lumati ambassador's were always male, and usually came with an interpretor, or so they were led to believe, who was also present at all times. There was no way he could get out of it, although if Sinclair hadn't bee on Babylon 5, he would have _had_ to deal with them....

Sheridan suddenly sat bolt upright, the answer coming to him instantly, and a slow, evil grin spread across his face. Rising to his feet, he walked across the room whistling, though a few moments later he had to compose himself. He took a breath and stepped onto the command deck.

“Commander.”

Ivanova turned briefly. “Captain.”

“I've just received word that a Lumati ship will be arriving soon.”

“The Lumati?” Ivanova repeated with interest.

Sheridan searched her face for any sign that she knew anything else about them, but it didn't seem like it. He nodded. “Apparently, they want to agree on an alliance with Earth.”

Ivanova's eyes widened. “I've heard a little about them, they're a very advanced race. An alliance would definitely be a good thing.”

He nodded again and allowed a preoccupied expression to spread across his face. “Commander, I'm up to my ears with this Narn-Centauri situation. I want you to handle talks with the Lumati.”

Her eyes widened even more. “Me, sir?”

“Yes. Diplomacy and all that.” Sheridan smiled. “I have faith in your abilities to do this, Commander. I want you to either secure the Lumati as a direct ally of the Alliance or as part of the League of Non-Aligned Worlds. Do whatever you have to in order to make this happen, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Ivanova said, standing up proudly.

“Good. Keep me informed.” He left quickly before he started laughing.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair noticed Delenn walking through the area but didn't really pay much attention to her until she stopped near his table. “Ambassador.”

“Captain. I am sorry to disturb you during your meal....”

Sinclair waved the apology aside, sensing her distress on many levels. “Please, join me.” Once she sat down, he leant forward and lowered his voice. “Are you alright?”

“I have just had a visit from Ambassador G'Kar,” Delenn told him.

Sinclair's expression shifted. “I see.”

“He showed me some disturbing images....”

“The Centauri attacking civilians.”

Delenn regarded him. “Yes. He has spoken to you as well?”

Sinclair nodded. “He met with us this morning. We've asked Earthdome for help, but....” He spread his hands.

“I understand. I am in a similar position. I find the attack on civilians distressing; even in war, I find the behaviour distasteful, though there are always casualties. But G'Kar's own actions have always been aimed at one thing; the utter destruction of the Centauri. If the tables were turned, if the Centauri were the weaker race, the Narns would be doing exactly the same thing.”

“I know. And the recent actions of the Narn Regime make it difficult for us to trust them,” Sinclair said. “But I can't just sit back and do nothing.”

Delenn nodded. “G'Kar offered to beg if that would guarantee the help of my people.”

Sinclair looked shocked. Pride was everything to the Narns. “The problem is, if we do help them, as soon as they are strong enough, they will retaliate and it will start all over again.”

“I told G'Kar that while my government would be reluctant to be drawn into another war, the Babylon 5 advisory council, as a separate entity, could still act.”

“What did he say?”

She looked away, her distress returning. “He said it was too late for that, that one side will destroy the other unless greater powers intervene.”

Sinclair ran a hand through his hair, a gesture Delenn had come to realise signified great frustration. “I don't know what else we can do, I just know it has to be greater than nothing.”

“We can only hope that in time, a solution presents itself.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“It's getting ugly out there,” Garibaldi told Sinclair a while later.

“I thought it might do.”

The security chief peered closely at his old friend. “How you doing, Jeff?”

“I'm fine, Michael,” he replied with a wan smile.

“You're not even close. This is me you're talking to, remember?”

“I know. It's just....”

“What?”

“Talking about it isn't going to help,” Sinclair told him. “It won't change what happened and it won't take away the memories.”

“I know, but...,” Garibaldi started.

Sinclair cut him off. “Have you spoken to Officer Welch about his promotion?”

Garibaldi sighed, wishing his friend wouldn't shut him out but knowing that pursuing the matter would only be a lesson in frustration. “Yeah, we've talked about it.”

“And?”

“And he's ready to leave as soon as they tell him to.”

Sinclair shared a look with Garibaldi, both understanding what wasn't being said. “Good. I suppose you already have a replacement in mind.”

The security chief frowned. “Replacement?”

“Welch has been like your second, you rely on him a lot.” Sinclair paused. “Zack Allan?”

Garibaldi shrugged then. “Probably. He's doing well. Handled the Narn-Centauri fights easily.”

“Good.”

“Jeff, look, I get that you don't want to talk, or at least to me. But talk to someone, okay?”

“I already have,” Sinclair replied, his tone firm.

“Fine, fine. I'll butt out and mind my own business.” Garibaldi walked away, then turned back. “It's just because I care. You're my friend, Jeff. Never forget that.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

It was by far one of the strangest negotiations Ivanova had ever been a part of. Correlimurzon refused to speak to her directly, communicating through his aide, Taq, instead. He deemed humans an inferior race, for the moment at least. And as she walked with them, Ivanova realised just how little experience she had with dealing with alien dignitaries. She was used to dealing with the ambassadors on the station because she knew them, but in situations like these, which essentially for her were first contact, she had no idea how to handle them. She tried to think what Sinclair and Sheridan would do in her shoes, and consoled herself with the fact that if she messed up...well, they probably did when they were learning too.

She decided to begin with a tour of the station, deciding that was a safe place to start. No doubt they would have questions afterwards, which she could easily answer and....

Ivanova sighed quietly. She would do her best but she wasn't fooled for an instant. The Lumati seemed to be advanced and somewhat haughty; the chances of her being able to secure an alliance were slim, and she was already dreading telling Sheridan she had failed. And Sinclair.

Since his capture by the Streib, she had barely let him out of her sight, just as she had promised. That first night, they had stayed up late talking and holding each other; though Sinclair hid it well, he was affected by his ordeal. In the following days, there had only been one night where she had left him in his quarters alone; he had asked for the space and she couldn't refuse him. They had also spoken about what was to come; neither were under any illusions that the following months, even years, would go smoothly. They were trying to bring down a man who easily murdered his predecessor without hitch or hesitation. The organisation of such a coup must have been huge; bringing down powerful supporters like that would not be easy.

But Ivanova was confident they could do it. A hell of a lot more confident than she was about the current situation. Ever since Sheridan had asked her to do this, there was something bothering her. She could accept Sheridan was busy, but what about Sinclair? He would have been far more suited to the task than she, and as far as she knew, there was nothing else urgent happening on the station that would require the attention of both Captains.

As far as she knew.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

_“Captain, we've just had an incident in the casino. Narns and Centauri fighting, one Narn refused to back down and one of my men had to shoot him.”_ Garibaldi's voice was terse over the link.

Sinclair's expression was grim and he glanced at Sheridan, who swore. “Thanks for the heads up, Chief. Keep us posted.”

“Great. Londo's going to have a field day with this.”

Sinclair nodded. “Handle him, whatever it takes.” Sheridan suddenly laughed. “I don't see anything funny about this, Captain.”

“No, no. I know. It's just....”

“Aren't you supposed to be talking to the Lumati delegate right now?” Sinclair asked suddenly.

Sheridan looked trapped. “Ah, no. It's taken care of.”

“What did you do?”

“I asked Ivanova to take care of it.”

 _“What?”_ Sinclair exclaimed loudly.

Sheridan quickly moved to the other side of the desk, hoping the piece of furniture would save him from any physical manifestation of the other Captain's obvious anger. Somehow, though, he doubted it. “You said yourself earlier that things could get ugly between the Narns and the Centauri and you were right. We're both needed to deal with that situation. Ivanova is more than capable of dealing with the Lumati.”

“And the fact that there are rumours made no difference whatsoever to your call,” Sinclair said sharply.

“Maybe,” Sheridan admitted.

“Dammit, Sheridan, we're supposed to make decisions like this together!”

“I knew you'd say no!”

“With good reason!” They were both leaning on the desk now, palms flat against the surface, faces inching closer to one another and growing redder by the second. Sinclair forced himself to take a deep breath and pushed backwards, creating some space before he jumped over the desk and strangled the other Captain. “You deliberately forced her into an embarrassing situation.”

“But it was okay for me to do it,” Sheridan retorted.

“I knew you'd find a way out of it.”

“As will Commander Ivanova,” Sheridan said slowly. “Look, if you want, I'll take her off the assignment.”

Sinclair looked at him. “And tell her what?”

“I'll think of something But you know, all we have to go on are rumours, nothing else. And you know how those go.”

He nodded. “Fine,” he said, against his better judgement.

“Thank you,” Sheridan said and started to leave the room.

“A hundred credits says she'll go through with it.”

He stopped in his tracks and turned, incredulous. “What?”

“One hundred credits says she will go through with it and conclude successful negotiations of an alliance with the Lumati,” Sinclair said.

“Now you're confident? A minute ago you were biting my head off!” Sheridan exclaimed. “Alright, you're on.” They shook hands. “Now if you'll excuse me, I need to talk with Ambassador Mollari, see if he can control his people a little better.”

“Don't count on it.”

“Care to make another wager?”

“No.” Then Sinclair gave a brief smile, with Sheridan returned before leaving. The older Captain sank gratefully into his chair and let his mask fall away.

He couldn't sleep. He could barely eat. Every time he tried to relax, images haunted him, and even though he knew they were only drug-induced, he couldn't get rid of them. It was worse than when he had been captured by the Knights, and the fact that he had almost killed Sheridan.... Sinclair had to admit that he was finding it difficult to cope. Ivanova had helped immensely, and Delenn had taken it upon herself to further his meditation training. But it wasn't enough.

Sinclair heard G'Kar approaching and sat up, feigning concentration on some paperwork and pushing his personal problems to one side. “Captain Sinclair! I demand to speak to you at once!” G'Kar said as he entered the office.

“Ambassador, I....”

“One of your security guards shot and killed an innocent Narn!”

“He was brandishing a broken bottle. He was dangerous.”

“He was nothing of the sort! He had just been insulted and attacked by our enemy, he had a right to defend himself!” G'Kar declared.

Sinclair pushed himself quickly to his feet. “He was ordered to stand down, he refused. My men were looking after their own safety, as well as those around them.”

“You mean Centauri,” G'Kar spat. “Since when did the humans become the dog servants of the Centauri Republic?”

“You want our help, then you had better control your people, G'Kar, or I'll have all thrown off this station,” Sinclair replied, his voice shaking with rage. “All incidents like this prove are that the Narns cannot control themselves. Every time you fight back like this, the Centauri win, don't you see that?” Then he shook his head and continued before the Narn could reply. “No, of course you don't. You're reacting, like you always have, like anyone would in your situation, but it isn't enough, G'Kar! Your people aren't strong enough to repel the Centauri. You have to find another way to survive or be eradicated, and if you think your people will accept that fact, then you're more arrogant than Mollari.”

G'Kar was livid with rage. “Just a minute....”

“No. I will _not_ have this station turned into a war zone,” Sinclair told him. “And as the duly appointed representative of your people here on Babylon 5, you're going to make sure that happens, or else find someone who will.”

“I expected different of you, Sinclair,” G'Kar said in a cold voice.

“I don't care. I have a duty to protect the people who live here, and you're jeopardising their lives. If you want to fight, fine. Go back to Narn and fight. But don't do it here.” The Captain forced some of the anger from his voice. “Give us a reason to help you, G'Kar. Give us something to make us believe that as soon as you're strong enough, you won't turn around and do the same to the Centauri.”

“I can assure you my people will not turn Babylon 5 into a war zone,” G'Kar said quietly. “Beyond that, I make no promises.” And he stormed from the room.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Garibaldi caught up with Sheridan in a corridor. “There's been a stabbing,” he said, easily falling in stride with the Captain.

“Victim?”

“The Centauri who was causing trouble earlier,” Garibaldi replied.

“Dammit!”

“We don't know who killed him yet.”

Sheridan stopped and looked at him. “Don't we?”

Garibaldi started walking again. “I've spoken with Sinclair, he'll meet us in med lab. Dr Franklin wants to cover the preliminary autopsy with us before we start jumping to conclusions.”

Sinclair was grim faced as the two men walked in the room, Franklin at his side. “Alright, Doctor,” the Captain said.

“Well, there is no conclusive proof regarding who attacked him, but there are clear finger marks on his neck. And if you look at the size and shape of the hand...well, if I had to give an answer, I'd say it points to being made by a Narn,” Franklin replied.

“Did you talk with Londo?” Sinclair asked Sheridan.

Sheridan pulled a face. “Briefly. He said that he had no sympathy for the Narn who was shot, that it was one less for his people to worry about. He also said that freedom of speech was a right on Babylon 5 and his people could say whatever they wished. If the Narns took it the wrong way and became violent, it wasn't his fault.”

Garibaldi was shaking his head. “I don't know what's going on with him. He stopped me earlier, invited me for a drink. He seemed...unhappy.”

“Really,” Sheridan said sarcastically.

“No, there's something more going on with him, I know it.”

“I doesn't matter,” Sinclair replied. “If Londo finds out that a Centauri was killed by a Narn, it could ignite violence over the entire station.”

Garibaldi looked at him. “What do you want me to do? I can't not tell him.”

“I'm not saying that, I'm just saying wait, at least for a little while, until we can find a better way to break the news to him.”

“One that doesn't end in a full scale war on Babylon 5,” Sheridan said to him.

Sinclair nodded. “One other thing, Chief. I don't believe the Narns who killed him were acting on G'Kar's orders, which means they could do it again. Be extra vigilant.”

“Don't worry, I'll make sure my people understand the score,” Garibaldi promised him.

“Captain, a word?”

Sheridan looked mildly surprised but followed Sinclair outside. “What is it?”

“Have you spoken to Ivanova at all today?” he asked.

“No. I thought it best to leave her to it.”

“Any idea how she's doing?”

“No, but I'm sure she'll be fine.” Sheridan then looked more closely at Sinclair. “Captain...Jeff, you look worn out. Go to sleep. Whatever problems we have will still be here tomorrow.”

Sinclair was about to protest but then decided against it. “Alright. Thank you. And John?”

“Yeah.”

“Make sure you do the same.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova let herself into his quarters and smiled when she saw him dozing. “Long day?” she asked quietly.

“Relatively. How about you?” he replied, opening his eyes.

“Odd.”

Sinclair sat up and gestured to the seat next to him. “Tell me.”

Ivanova explained about the Lumati, and he once again felt a stab of guilt, though as Sheridan had pointed out, they only had rumours to go on. He then told her about the dead Narn and the dead Centauri, and she shook her head.

“We're going to hell in a hand basket.”

“I fear this is only the beginning,” Sinclair said wearily.

Ivanova looked at him. “Have you slept at all since last week?”

“Not really.”

“Not even with Tennyson?”

He managed a smile. “Not even then.”

She sat back, looking thoughtful. “Not to be presumptuous, but I can't stay. I'm meeting with the Lumati again first thing in the morning. But I can stay for a while.” Standing, Ivanova held her hand out to him.

“What?” Sinclair asked, frowning.

Silently, Ivanova just stood still, arm outstretched, until he reached up and took it. She led him into the bedroom, pulled the covers back and pointed. “Get comfortable.”

Sinclair found he was shaking as he stripped down and climbed into bed. He knew Ivanova wasn't suggesting anything inappropriate yet he couldn't think what she was suggesting. Until she came back with a battered book moments later. “Where did you...?”

“I noticed it a while ago,” she admitted sheepishly. “I sort of guessed what it was. I figured someone like you would have a hard copy of Tennyson somewhere. Now, lie back and close your eyes.”

He did as he was told, then felt the bed dip as she sat beside him. He could hear her breathing erratically, heard her fingers slip over the pages, and he realised she was as nervous as he was. Without looking, he held his hand out, glad when she took it.

“Thank you, Susan,” Sinclair whispered, kissing her knuckles.

“Thank me if it works,” she replied, though he detected a smile in her voice.

Slowly, quietly, she began to read, and he was instantly mesmerized not just by Tennyson, but by Ivanova reading it. He wasn't sure how much time passed, but eventually he found himself slipping into darkness. Beside him, Ivanova was aware of his breathing evening out and after she was sure he was asleep, she stopped reading and just watched him for a while. Then with a reluctant sigh, she got off the bed, careful not to disturb him, and dimmed the lights.

“Good night, Jeff,” she murmured, kissing his temple before padding silently out of his quarters.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan found he was the first in the office the next day, which was something of a surprise, but he expected Sinclair wasn't far behind him. So when the other Captain showed up over an hour later, he was justifiably worried.

“Problem?”

Sinclair looked at him. “Unless you count me oversleeping a problem, no.”

Sheridan smiled. “You slept? And overslept. I think that sounds great.”

Sinclair smiled back and placed two cups of coffee on the table. “Thought you could use this.”

“You have no idea.”

“Problem?”

Sheridan's smile faded. “I spoke with Earthdome a little while ago, asking if they had considered our request. I figured since we hadn't heard anything, I'd see what the problem was.”

“And?” Sinclair asked, already knowing what the answer would be.

“They're denying our appeals,” he replied with a sigh. “Said that the Narns will just have to fend for themselves.”

“And you have a plan.”

“I might. I don't know how much good it will do. And it will rely heavily on Ambassador Delenn's help,” Sheridan told him. “And it won't put us, or Earth, in an awkward position either.”

Sinclair turned and stared out of the window. “Do it.” He looked back. “Do you want me to talk to G'Kar or would you prefer to do it?”

“You're giving me a choice?”

“Sure.”

“Maybe we should both be there, and Delenn, if she agrees,” Sheridan said. “Show a united front.”

“I thought we said we weren't going to do that,” Sinclair reminded him.

“We said not too often. Besides, I think where the Narns and the Centauri are concerned, a united front is the only way to go, otherwise they might try divide and conquer tactics on us.”

“Alright. Let me know how it goes with Delenn, and there will be a meeting with G'Kar or not.” Sinclair stood. “I have a few things I need to attend to.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Captain!”

Sheridan stopped in his tracks and turned. “Commander. Is there a problem?”

Ivanova was beaming at him. “Not at all, sir. I just wanted to let you know that the Lumati have agreed to an alliance before they. Correlimurzon himself assured me of that.”

She had briefed him on the situation and so he knew for the Lumati delegate to speak directly to her was a huge step forward. “That's great,” he said, grinning. “Some good news for a change.”

“No word from Earthdome?”

“Oh, we heard from them, just not the answer we wanted. But I think I might have figured something out.”

“Good,” Ivanova said. “Well, I have to go, I'm meeting Correlimurzon in your office to finalise negotiations, I hope you don't mind.”

She was gone before Sheridan had a chance to reply, unwanted images running wild through his brain. He stood frozen to the spot for a few moments before shaking his head. “Don't think about it, John, just don't think about.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair groaned as his link went off. He was in AirHarts enjoying a quiet drink, and while he was sure Kat's rule of 'no business inside the club' didn't extend to him, he really didn't want to test that theory. Trying to be as discrete as possible, he answered it. “Sinclair.”

 _“Just thought you'd want to know that Na'Toth handed over the Narn responsible for the earlier 'incident'. She explained that he will be happy to stand trial and confess his guilt,”_ Garibaldi said somewhat sarcastically.

“Alright. Lock him up but hold off telling Londo,” Sinclair replied. “Let me think on this some more.”

_“Will do.”_

“You know if Kat hears or sees you, you'll be buying everyone in here a drink.”

Sinclair turned and smiled at Ivanova. “Are you going to tell her?”

“Not if you buy me a drink.”

There was a wildness about her eyes that suggested to him a drink would be a very good idea, and he signalled a waiter. “How are the negotiations going?”

“Great! They've agreed to an alliance,” Ivanova said a little too enthusiastically.

“Then why do you look like you want to run to the Cobra bay and just in the nearest StarFury?” Sinclair asked, amused.

Ivanova looked around, then lowered her voice. “Did you know the Lumati treat sex the way we treat a handshake?! That's how we're supposed to conclude negotiations. Seriously!”

Sinclair was torn between laughing loudly, being chagrined he had lost a hundred credits, and guilty he had helped put Ivanova in this situation in the first place. “He won't agree otherwise?”

“No. And I already told Sheridan that the alliance was going ahead, I can't back out now.”

“But Susan....”

“I am _not_ having sex with him, though,” Ivanova declared hotly, ignoring Sinclair.

He almost told her. Almost admitted he had known all along, but knew it wasn't the right time. Instead, he decided to help her. As soon as he knew the Lumati would be arriving, he had spent hours thinking about how to get around the problem of concluding negotiations with them if the rumours were true, and it seemed they were. And he had an idea.

“You know, from what you've said, the Lumati act like a superior race. If they thought humans were inferior, there's a good chance he won't know anything about human physiology or how we...do things,” Sinclair said as nonchalantly as possible.

He knew Ivanova. He knew how her mind worked. And sure enough, he saw the light of realisation dawning as an idea came to her. “That's it! That might just work!”

Then she looked as though she could kiss him. It was an awkward moment, quickly broken by her mumbling her thanks and heading out. Sinclair watched her go, then stood himself. As he passed the bar, Kat hailed him. “Captain, I appreciate that sometimes, you can't help it, but no business in AirHarts means no business.”

He smiled easily at her. “You caught me. What's my penance?”

“This time, nothing. But next time....”

“Understood.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair headed towards the office, hoping his talk with Ivanova hadn't made him late for the meeting with G'Kar. He was pleased that Delenn had agreed to help, though he expected nothing less from her. Part of him shared the pain he knew she would be feeling as well. Offering the Narns indirect, secret aid was not what G'Kar had in mind; medical supplies, left over food and cargo holds were all they could manage without attracting the attention of either the Earth or Minbari governments. He just hoped G'Kar would understand and accept what little help they offered.

He was about to round the corner into the corridor where the entrance to the Captains' office was situated when he heard a terrible noise; the sound of utter despair and a helplessness so intense it pained Sinclair to listen to it. He stopped in his tracks, then inched forwards slowly, his feet making hardly any sound on the floor. With great care he peered around the corner.

G'Kar was slumped against the wall, his shoulders shaking from his anguished cries, his pain almost malleable in the atmosphere. Then, with an effort, he straightened himself, forced a closed expression onto his face and marched away with as much dignity as he could muster. He passed by Sinclair, but did not notice him.

The Captain waited for a few moments, weighing up his options. It was clear G'Kar had excepted the offer, but was distressed it wasn't anything more, which in turn would have upset both Delenn and Sheridan, though to a greater and lesser degree. He imagined they would want some time to themselves to discuss what had happened, and he would feel as though he was intruding.

Decision made, Sinclair turned and walked away. He would make his excuses later.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Mr Garibaldi said that the Narn who murdered that Centauri turned himself in,” Sheridan said to Sinclair a while later as he joined him on the command deck.

The older Captain nodded. “And I think I've found a way to make sure this stays quiet with Londo as well.”

“Really? Are you sure you don't want to swap? I'll handle G'Kar from now on and you can have Londo?” Sheridan asked.

Sinclair laughed. “Maybe we can just decide depending on the situation, keep them on their toes.”

“Sounds like a plan. What makes you think Ambassador Mollari will agree to what you say?”

“Garibaldi said he asked to have a drink with him earlier, that he's missing having friends. I think we can use that to our advantage.”

“He's done this to himself.”

“Things aren't always so simple,” Sinclair chastised him gently. “You don't know Londo like I do. Give him the benefit of the doubt before writing him off as some cold-blooded villain.” He changed the subject before Sheridan could respond. “Did you speak with G'Kar?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“He was disappointed but accepted our offer,” Sheridan told him.

“Good.” Sinclair then remembered something and fought to keep a smile from his face. “Oh, I heard back from Ivanova.”

Sheridan looked slightly sick. “And?”

“She finalised negotiations with the Lumati, the paperwork is going through as we speak. We have a new ally.” He smiled then as if nothing was out of the ordinary, and leant forwards. “You owe me a hundred credits,” he said quietly. “Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go and talk to Ambassador Mollari.”

“I need therapy,” Sheridan muttered to himself.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

After successfully brokering a deal with Londo, Sinclair made one more stop before heading back to his quarters. Delenn seemed surprised to see him, but invited him in nonetheless.

“I just wanted to thank you for your help with the Narns, Ambassador,” he said formally, bowing.

She bowed back. “It was my pleasure, Captain.”

Sinclair looked up then and stared deep into her eyes. Delenn was astonished, as always, by the depth of emotion and understanding held there, and she wondered about the destiny of the man before her. Beyond what she had already seen, his future was a mystery.

“There is another matter. I've decided to tell Susan about the Rangers, and not just the story we spun Garibaldi. I'm going to tell her everything. She deserves to know,” he said, his voice deeper than usual.

Delenn smiled slightly. “Would this have anything to do with certain recent negotiations?” she asked slyly.

Sinclair relaxed then. “Possibly.”

“She will find out sooner or later, one way or another,” Delenn admitted. “Commander Ivanova is extremely resourceful. I think the news would be better coming from you.”

“So we're in agreement?” he asked, surprised.

“The decision, Jeff, is yours. You are the leader of the Rangers.”

“You are also their leader; the decision is ours.”

Delenn smiled again. “Then yes, we are in agreement.”

Sinclair stood and bowed once more. “Thank you.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

As he waited outside her quarters, he braced himself for the inevitable backlash, knowing there was no way the meeting could end anything more than terribly. He had lied to her and tricked her; she would not be speaking to him again for a long time after tonight, and though that thought pained him, though he was tempted to lie, he had sworn to tell her the truth when the time was right. And he was making tonight the right time.

The door opened and as soon as he stepped inside, he saw her and his breath caught in his chest. “Susan,” he managed to whisper.

She was dressed casually, nothing he hadn't seen before. Her hair was hanging down in waves, nothing he hadn't seen before. And the glow of happiness and success, of pride on her face...nothing he hadn't seen before either. But it felt like he was seeing her for the first time, and he sensed that despite his best efforts, his feelings for her were on a roller-coaster to a much deeper level. If that was possible.

“Jeff?” Ivanova said in a questioning voice, taking a step towards him.

“Don't.” Sinclair hadn't meant to sound so harsh, and he softened his face. “I have something to tell you. A couple of things, actually. And you probably don't want me to stay afterwards. Before I start, though, check your credit account.”

Ivanova frowned but did as he asked, and her eyes widened when she saw the balance. “Two hundred extra credits?”

Sinclair nodded. “One hundred from Sheridan, and one hundred from me. This isn't some sort of bribe, I just thought it was fair. What you do with it is up to you.” With a deep breath, he told her about the Lumati, how both Captains had heard rumours and how he had got Sheridan to deal with them, who then in turn put it on Ivanova. Sinclair explained that he gave her the advice because it was the tactic he would have used had he been in the situation. “I don't expect you to forgive me.”

She walked slowly towards him and he braced himself as she raised her hand. But when it touched his face, it was a gentle caress, not the slap he was expecting. “Maybe I should be mad at you, but it was a good experience for me. However, my mood will definitely depend on what you tell me next.”

“You might want to sit down for this,” Sinclair told her.

“Are you sitting as well?”

“Susan....”

“Jeff, I can't do anything to ease your sense of guilt,” she said. “Only you can do that. Besides, if we're going to have a long discussion, you might as well sit down. And....” Her expression turned sly and more than a little flirtatious. “...I would much rather think of a way for you to pay me back for what you did instead of getting angry with you.”

Sinclair hung his head, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. “I don't deserve you.”

“Okay, now I might get angry with you,” Ivanova replied. “Believe it or not, you're only human. You make mistakes, bad judgements calls. We'll argue – we already have – but that doesn't change...how I feel about you.” She reached up again and wiped a tear from his face, then pulled him into a firm embrace.

When they pulled apart, Sinclair cradled her face and kissed her tenderly. “Thank you.”

“Now, what else did you want to tell me?”

“The real reason I've been going to Minbar.”

Ivanova turned on the sofa and glared at him. “This had better be good.”

“It is,” Sinclair assured her.

TBC


	38. 213 Hunter Prey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For SilenceoftheSolitude and Midge especially.

_August 2259_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan stood in Bay Thirteen with an expression of rapt fascination on his face. He couldn't believe he'd been on Babylon 5 so long and never even seen the Vorlon ship up close. It was amazing, and he longed to be able to study it more. The pattern on the hull kept shifting and changing, almost as though it was alive; it had always been speculated that the Vorlons had organic technology and now he was standing looking at proof of that.

Ivanova stood back and watched him without really seeing him. Her mind was elsewhere, to a conversation with Sinclair a few weeks ago.

_“Now, what else did you want to tell me?”_

_“The real reason I've been going to Minbar.”_

_Ivanova turned on the sofa and glared at him. “This had better be good.”_

_“It is,” Sinclair assured her. He shifted slightly and stared ahead, obviously trying to find a good place to start. “When I was recalled to Earth at the end of last year, before returning here I was ordered to make a side trip to Minbar. Hague didn't know why and neither did I. When I arrived, I was told about humans having parts of or whole Minbari souls. I was told that I was captured and tortured by the Grey Council, and that they discovered I had part of a Minbari soul within me. I was their first contact with humans and so it was natural they would have a special fascination with me, but I discovered it was more than that.” He paused, collecting his thoughts. “It seems I also feature in some of their prophecies, set forth by Valen himself.”_

_“Valen? Really?” Ivanova asked._

_He nodded. “Some of what they told me didn't make sense, to me or them. But some of it did. During the last great war with the darkness, the Minbari had an army of specially skilled people called Rangers. They were hand-to-hand combatants, intelligence gatherers, semi-religious and workers, all rolled into one. They embodied the best of all three Minbari castes, and they answered to one person, Entil'zha, who essentially became caste-less when they accepted the role. There have been no Rangers for centuries...until recently. The darkness is returning, we know this now. The Minbari have known for longer, but not much longer.” He took a deep breath. “According to their prophecy for this period, I was named Entil'zha by Valen. I was chosen to lead the Rangers here and now.”_

_Ivanova stared at him. “You have your own private army?” she couldn't help but quip._

_Sinclair looked at her and smiled. “You could say that,” he said, relieved they were bantering._

_“I would say you're crazy, but you've always been like this,” she mused dryly._

_“I know how it sounds....”_

_“It sounds perfectly logical, which in itself is crazy,” Ivanova told him. “Actually, it makes sense. The bruises I saw, not to mention how...toned you've become. Your presence in a room has changed as well; harder, more commanding. You have an edge to you now you never used to, and yet more compassion, if that's even possible. And you move differently. More in balance, more confident...like a fighter.”_

_“When on Minbar the first time, I was given a box to bring back with me, with strict instructions not to open it until the time was right, which was some months later. Inside was a fighting pike, apparently a very old one which could have belonged to Valen himself,” Sinclair explained. “A lot of our training involves pike work, which I why I have bruises.” He smiled ruefully. “I'm good, but some of the others are better. I practice whenever I can while I'm here, and then I have to go back to Minbar to train the others.”_

_Ivanova looked at him for a moment. “Not to point out the obvious, but you're human. How does that work with the Minbari?”_

_“It seems the Rangers are drawn to serve, and when they join, they are told about us sharing souls. The badge we wear even reflects that,” Sinclair said. “They are mostly Minbari, but there are some humans as well. More seem to show up each time I return. But to them, it doesn't matter; all they see are fellow Rangers.”_

_“Who else knows?”_

_“Delenn has always known. She is my second-in-command, though that's not entirely accurate. Michael found out a couple of months ago. The information he received about the Centauri being linked with an ancient enemy of darkness?” he said, and Ivanova nodded. “It came from the Rangers. From me. Actually....” He smiled. “...It came from Delenn. We decided that, for the time being, my involvement in the Rangers should remain a secret. I trust Michael, that isn't the issue. The less people who know, the better. To protect them.”_

_“Then why tell me?” Ivanova asked._

_“Because I don't want to keep any secrets from you that I don't have to,” Sinclair replied, taking hold of her hand. “I want to be honest with you always, so that if I ever make a decision that seems completely crazy, you can trust my reasoning even if I don't have time to explain it.”_

_“I would do anyway.” She was silent for a while. “I forgive you for lying, and for the thing with the Lumati. But...you will make it up to me at some point in the future.”_

_Sinclair smiled. “I'm looking forward to it.”_

“I always knew the Vorlons were advanced, but this technology is centuries, if not millennia, ahead of what we're capable of,” Sheridan marvelled, his voice breaking through Ivanova's reverie. He started to step forwards.

“Captain, don't,” Ivanova warned, but it was too late. Some sort of beam held him in place, and from his expression, it was slightly painful as well. “Back away slowly.”

Sheridan did as he was told and was both surprised and comforted when he walked into her hand, which rested briefly on his back. “No one's ever gotten close to it?” he asked.

She shook her head. “We've had to cordon off the bay to keep everyone out, including maintenance workers, because the ones that did come in here claimed that the ship started talking to them in their sleep.” She turned her attention to the ship. “Sometimes, late at night, I'll come in here and just watch it. There's something...soothing about it.”

Sheridan grunted in agreement, though clearly he was lost in his thoughts. Slowly he turned to Ivanova. “This ship...Kosh...no one knows anything about the Vorlons. They're shrouded in mystery, claiming we're...inferior or whatever. But it's about time we knew more about them. If they're going to be a part of this station, then it's time they started sharing.”

Ivanova wanted to tell him what a bad idea that was, and ask him if he had somehow absorbed Sinclair's suicidal nature when Garibaldi walked in. “We need to talk, but not here. Not in front of that.” He eyed the ship suspiciously. “Sinclair's meeting us in the office.”

They followed him out, but Sheridan gave one last lingering look at the ship. When they had gone, Kosh emerged from the shadows. He stood in the middle of the bay, the head of his encounter suit tilted to one side in an oddly human gesture. The hull of the ship shifted, forming lettering, and he nodded. The time was now.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Where were you two?” Sinclair asked when they walked into the office.

“Bay thirteen,” Ivanova replied with a slight roll of her eyes.

“Have you ever been near the ship?” Sheridan asked Sinclair.

He just shook his head. “Never felt the need to,” he replied honestly.

“Aren't you the least bit curious about the Vorlons?”

“No. You have to remember, I've spent longer dealing with them than you have, and after a while, the mystery wears off. If they want to hide, let them. To tell you the truth, Sheridan, I couldn't be less bothered about seeing a Vorlon.”

Sheridan just stared at him like he was crazy. “Mr Garibaldi, you want to see us?” Ivanova prompted the security chief, recognising that the Captains were about to start a personal disagreement.

Garibaldi nodded. “I've just got word that Dr Everett Jacobs is allegedly on the run....”

“Jacobs? Isn't he the President's personal physician?” Sheridan interrupted.

He nodded again. “And before I go any further, this'll go a lot quicker if you don't interrupt me every two seconds,” he said wearily. Sinclair and Ivanova tried not to smile while Sheridan looked chastised. “As I was saying, Jacobs is on the run, apparently having stolen some top secret data. They think he intends to defect to an alien power and that's his bargaining chip. Just before coming to find you, Earthforce alerted me to the fact that they think Jacobs is here, on Babylon 5.” He paused. “Their orders are shoot to kill.”

“What?” Sinclair exclaimed.

Ivanova looked shocked. “What information could the doctor possibly have that would make him so dangerous?”

“I don't know,” Garibaldi replied. “But I'd be willing to take a guess.”

Sheridan looked intrigued. “Go on.”

“I always thought that then Vice President Clark's story about being sick and having to leave Earthforce One right before it exploded sounded phony. And now we get word that his personal physician has stolen sensitive information and needs to be taken out. If that's not a coincidence, I don't know what is.”

“You think Jacobs has proof that Clark lied?” Sinclair asked.

Garibaldi just looked at him. “I'm saying it's a possibility.”

“Then we need to find him,” Sheridan said.

“Already on it,” Garibaldi replied. “But there's one thing that's going to make things more difficult.”

“Why doesn't that surprise me?” Ivanova muttered.

“They're sending someone from Earthforce Special Intelligence to 'help' us find Jacobs.”

Sheridan and Sinclair exchanged glances. “How much time do we have?”

“Not long,” Garibaldi replied.

“We'll play this one like we discussed?” Sinclair asked the other Captain.

Sheridan nodded. “Obedient servant,” he said, pointing to himself. Then he pointed to Sinclair. “Rebel.”

“With a cause,” Garibaldi added. Ivanova just rolled her eyes. 

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

They knew as soon as Special Agent Derek Cranston walked into the room that they would have little difficulty selling their game. Ivanova stood off to one side and watched as the man approached Sheridan first, all compliments and firm handshakes, and then acknowledged Sinclair was just a curt nod. Cranston was polite, promising his men would stay out of the way and that they were only there in a supportive capacity; Sheridan acted like he believed him and said they would cooperate fully. Sinclair objected and was ignored. 

“Thank you for your understanding, Captain,” Cranston said, shaking Sheridan's hand again. “I'm sure we'll have this matter under control soon and we'll be out of your hair. Commander.” He acknowledged Ivanova before leaving.

“I'm the invisible man,” Sinclair remarked dryly.

Ivanova looked around, pretending not to see him. “Who said that?” Then she smiled and stood next to him, bumping his shoulder.

“Did you believe what he said?” Sheridan asked. “About the information Jacobs stole shaking the very foundations of the Earth Alliance.”

“If Garibaldi's right, yes,” Sinclair replied.

“I wonder how he's getting on with his investigation,” Ivanova said.

Sheridan looked at her. “Do you know what he meant by that?”

She shrugged. “I would guess it involves Stephen.”

“Why do you say that?” Sinclair asked.

“Don't you know?” Ivanova looked from one Captain to the other. “Franklin studied under Jacobs at Harvard University.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!” Franklin exclaimed. “Jacobs would never do any such thing”

“No offence, Doc, but the last time you vouched for a friend of yours, we ended up with three dead bodies, half the station was trashed, and an Ikarran war machine shooting at everything,” Garibaldi reminded him.

Franklin glared him. “Hendricks had always been...ambitious, willing to cut corners. But Jacobs is nothing like that. I refuse to believe he's guilty of treason, espionage, or any other charge, for that matter.”

“Well, you see, I'm willing to believe you this time, but I might need your help.”

“To do what?”

“To find Jacobs before anyone else does.”

“Assuming he is here,” Franklin said.

“Look, Stephen, if he is here, and he does try to contact you, make sure you keep him hidden and contact me straight away. Discreetly,” Garibaldi urged him. “This is serious. Clark's sent some bloodhounds to 'help' find him. Now if I know the Captains, they'll do all they can do hinder Cranston and his boys, but if they find him before we do....”

“I'll keep my eyes and ears open,” Franklin promised. “And if I do find out anything, you'll be the first to know.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova entered AirHarts and looked around slowly, finally spotting Sinclair on his own. “I thought at least Sheridan would be joining us,” she said in surprise.

“I think he's trying to talk to Kosh,” Sinclair replied, thinking back to a conversation he had with Sheridan while they were on the Agamemnon after being rescued.

_“Kosh...talked to me while we were on that ship,” he said quietly._

_“Talked to you?”_

_“In my head. Sent me...weird images that didn't make any sense.” Sheridan shook his head. “It was like he was trying....”_

_“Help you?” Sinclair suggested._

_“No. Like he was seeking understanding.”_

_Sinclair had no answer for that. Instead, he stared at the far wall of the dimly lit medical bay, focusing on the steady rising and falling of the Narn's chest. “You know he'll want to repay you,” he said._

_“Who?”_

_“The Narn.”_

_“I know.” Sheridan turned to Sinclair. “Did Kosh talk to you?”_

_“Yes,” Sinclair admitted._

_“And?”_

_“And it made no sense to me either. But unlike you, I won't pursue the matter,” he replied._

_“And you think I will?” Sheridan asked, amused._

_Sinclair smiled at him. “I know you. You won't be able to let it go.”_

“He's pestering him,” Ivanova said, and for a moment, Sinclair was confused as to what they were talking about. Then he remembered.

“Commander, that is no way to talk about your superior officer,” he admonished her.

She ducked her head. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“Stop smiling, Susan.”

“What? Now I'm not allowed to smile?” He laughed. “Now that's a sound I've missed.”

“Not had much to laugh about recently,” Sinclair said.

Ivanova nodded. “I know. Sometimes we forget how important laughter is.”

He raised his eyebrows. “This coming from you?”

“Where's Garibaldi?” she asked, deliberately changing the subject.

“Cranston's just briefed security personnel on the search, and it seems that Jacobs is tagged with an electronic device which emits a low level signal of some kind,” Sinclair explained. “Garibaldi said that the signal has a short range, but by using hand scanners, they could cut down searching time.”

“Great. Teams of people walking all around the station trying to find someone who might not even be here,” Ivanova said sarcastically, then she stopped. “Wait, a low level signal? As in radiation maybe?”

“Maybe.”

“And did Mr Garibaldi point out to Mr Cranston that we could make the search almost instantaneous by using the same method we used to track Abel Horn a few months ago?” Ivanova asked.

“I do believe that fact slipped Mr Garibaldi's mind,” Sinclair replied mildly.

Ivanova smiled. “Good for Mr Garibaldi. Though if Cranston finds out, he'll be pissed.”

“Hopefully he won't.” The Captain leant forward, holding Ivanova's gaze. “There's something else on your mind, Susan. What is it?”

She took a deep breath. “I want to train with you.”

“From what Michael tells me, you don't need to. Even he won't fight you,” Sinclair said with a smile.

“Brawling isn't the same and you know it,” Ivanova replied.

“Susan....”

“Don't tell me it's too dangerous, Jeff,” she snapped.

He silenced her with a look. “I wasn't going to. I was going to say I'd be honoured to train you, to have you fight alongside me.”

Ivanova blushed uncontrollably. “Dammit, Jeff.”

Sinclair smiled at her. “What? Did you expect me to object?”

“Yes,” she replied honestly. “I thought you would try to protect me.”

“I will, but at the end of the day, if this is what you want, this is what we will do. But I have to warn you, it won't be easy. It isn't just the physical training, there is...mental work involved as well. It's like nothing you have ever experienced before.”

“I understand. I won't let you down.”

“You never have.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair entered Sheridan's quarters silently and waited until he had activated the jamming device. “You have some news?”

Sheridan nodded. “I just met with a contact from General Hague. Apparently, Garibaldi was right. Jacobs isn't a traitor, but a direct threat to Clark. He had evidence that Clark wasn't sick at all, which means he left the ship because he _knew_ it was going to explode.”

“It isn't a lot but it's a start,” Sinclair said.

“The contact said that they helped Jacobs escape Earth, but he missed a connecting flight,” Sheridan told him wryly. “And now he's stuck on Babylon 5. They want us to help him escape by any means necessary.”

“To do that, we have to find him.”

“I've already briefed Garibaldi, he's on it.”

“Good. Is he taking Dr Franklin with him?” Sinclair asked.

Sheridan looked surprised. “I don't know. Why would he?”

“Stephen knows Jacobs, it makes sense Garibaldi would use one doctor to find another,” he replied.

“Is that a good idea? I mean, Dr Franklin isn't exactly....”

“Exactly what, Captain?”

“It isn't really his area of expertise,” Sheridan said somewhat lamely.

Sinclair smiled. “I trust Michael's judgement. If he thinks Stephen can help him, then he'll take him along. As far as I'm concerned, the sooner Cranston and his hounds are off the station, the better. Who knows what else they might uncover while they're here? Which reminds me, Ivanova pointed out to me earlier that we do have an easier way to find Jacobs as he is tagged.”

“You're thinking about recalibrating the computer system like we did to track Horn, aren't you?” Sheridan replied.

“No. Not at all. I'm just reminding you of what has happened before.” His smile grew. “What Cranston doesn't know won't hurt him.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“You're security force is doing an excellent job with the search,” Cranston complimented Sheridan some time later. “They are very efficient.”

“Thank you, but Captain Sinclair hand-picked most of them, including Mr Garibaldi,” Sheridan replied, hinting that Sinclair should share some of the praise, though he managed not to sound too happy about it.

Cranston finally realised diplomacy needed to come into play and turned. “Captain Sinclair, my thanks for your help with this situation.”

“My pleasure,” Sinclair said, though he didn't sound too happy either.

“We think that Jacobs is somewhere in this area, that you call Downbelow. It would be easier for him to hide there.”

“A good point,” Sinclair said. “Though he could just as easily be downtown.”

Sheridan suddenly peered closely at the display and nodded slowly. “You know, Captain, you could be right.” Then he barked a short laugh and shook his head. “I don't know why I didn't think of that.”

Sinclair shrugged. “Seems logical to me.” Neither looked at Ivanova, not trusting themselves to remain serious if they did.

“Downtown?” Cranston repeated, frowning. “I didn't see any area with that name?”

“It's sort of the unofficial name,” Sinclair explained. “For this area between blue and grey sector.”

“It's the part between the hull and the water reclamation system,” Sheridan continued. “Pretty much the worst place on the station, with lead-lined walls and....”

“Did you say 'lead?'? Cranston asked

“Yes. Why?”

The agent began to pace. “That's just the sort of thing Jacobs would know and use against us. It's possible the lead could block the signal on his tracking device.” He stopped and looked pleased. “Good work, Sinclair, Sheridan,” he said and strode from the room.

“You do realise that there are no less than forty seven pressure doors in that area, all welded shut, not including the ones on either side of the waste treatment facility,” Ivanova pointed out, amused.

“Yes,” both Captains replied in unison.

“God save me,” she muttered.

“Cranston and his men will be pretty ripe when they finish searching that area,” Sheridan said smugly.

“All it's done it buy us a little more time,” Sinclair told him seriously. “Let's hope Garibaldi's having more luck in his search than Cranston.”

Sheridan's link went off. “Sheridan, go.”

_“Captain, we just received a message from you from...Ambassador Kosh.”_

“Yes?”

_“He requests your presence in his quarters.”_

The three officers stood staring at each other, shocked. “Kosh has never asked to see anyone before,” Ivanova said quietly.

“Tell him to let me know a time and I'll be there.” Sheridan cut the link and looked at Sinclair. “He never asked to see you?”

He shook his head. “Never.”

“Guess I'd better see what he wants.”

“Pestering seems to pay off,” Ivanova noted after he had gone.

“Hmm,” was all Sinclair said in reply.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan was frustrated. The conversation with Kosh was going nowhere. The only straight answer he had gotten out of the Vorlon so far was when he said that everyone wanted to know what Kosh looked like beneath his encounter suit; Kosh had replied, “They are not ready. They would not understand.” But after that, it had been smoke and mirrors as usual. Then when he told Sheridan he wasn't ready because he didn't even understand himself, the Captain lost his cool.

“You've been watching me ever since I arrived on the station. You pay attention to me than you ever did to Sinclair, why is that? When I was captured by the Streib, you touched my mind. I know you also spoke to Sinclair, but you seem more interested in me. Why is that?”

Kosh remained silent.

“What do you want?” Sheridan shouted angrily.

“ _Never_ ask that question!” Kosh replied with such towering fury that the Captain took a step back.

“At least I got a reaction out of you. Will you answer my questions? Will you tell me why you seem so fascinated with me?”

“No.”

Sheridan sighed. “Then why did you ask me here?”

“I wish...to teach you.”

“About you?”

“About you,” Kosh replied. “Until you are ready.”

“Ready for what?” Sheridan asked uneasily.

“To fight legends.”

“And what about Sinclair? We're in this together,” he stated firmly.

Kosh was silent for a while. “Water flowing along different paths still reaches the same destination.”

“And that was exactly the answer I was expecting,” Sheridan replied dryly. “Although that actually made sense.”

“Go now.”

He had gotten more than he bargained for and nodded. “Ambassador.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair paced the command deck, his movements making Ivanova uncomfortable. “Would you keep still? Sir?”

He stopped and looked at her. “I don't like this,” he said in a low voice.

“We knew what we signed up for,” she reminded him.

“Where are we with the search?” Sheridan asked as he walked through the doors.

“Still no luck,” Ivanova replied. “And Mr Cranston is becoming quite frustrated.”

“Maybe Jacobs isn't even on the station,” Sheridan said.

Sinclair looked at Ivanova, who then started to drone about reports while Sinclair talked in a low voice, her words masking his. “Garibaldi and Franklin found Jacobs. A thug from Downbelow captured him and was going to turn him over to Cranston for a ransom. Michael's effecting a rescue plan as we speak.”

“Very good, Commander,” Sheridan replied, winking at Sinclair.

“There is one other thing, Captain,” Ivanova said, and she started off on some made up story that sounded very believable.

“Garibaldi will bring Jacobs to my quarters when they have him. Ivanova and I will meet him there and collect the information,” Sinclair continued. “We just have one problem, and that's how we're going to get Jacobs off the station, or at least hide him long enough for Cranston and his hounds to leave.”

“He still doesn't know we can calibrate the systems to scan?” Sheridan asked.

Sinclair shook his head. “But he's getting close.”

“I have an idea, Commander.” Sheridan looked at Ivanova. “Come with me.”

Sinclair smiled as he watched them leave, unsurprised at how well he and Sheridan worked together, despite their earlier problems. He still had some misgivings, but that was more with the way Sheridan did things; nothing wrong with his methods, as such, it just wasn't the way Sinclair would do things. And he felt Sheridan could be too blunt at the wrong times, though he had no doubt that Garibaldi would call that a case of 'pot, kettle, black'.

“Captain Sinclair!”

_'Here we go,'_ Sinclair thought as he turned. “Mr Cranston, have you found him yet?”

Cranston ignored him. “Why wasn't I told that you can use the station's scanner to search for Jacobs' signal? That you've used this technique before?”

Just as the Captain opened his mouth to reply, Sheridan walked through the door. “Captain Sinclair, there's been an emergency I need to attend to.” Then he noticed the aggressive postures of both men. “Or I can deal with this and you can go?” he suggested.

“An excellent idea,” Sinclair said, striding away. He paused by Sheridan. “Mr Cranston was just asking why we didn't inform him about the station scanners.”

Sheridan nodded in understanding, then turned to Cranston. “Why didn't we tell you?” He shrugged. “You didn't ask. It will also take at least two to three hours to get the station-wide scanner aligned for such a search, not to mention the time programming....”

Sinclair didn't hear any more, and he made sure he was far enough away before allowing the smile to appear on his face. “Something's amused you,” Ivanova stated as they met and headed to his quarters. He explained about Sheridan handling Cranston. “I approve.”

“I thought you might.”

“How long do we have?”

“A couple of hours at most. Did Sheridan come up with a plan?”

Ivanova smiled. “Yes, but it's crazier than anything you or Garibaldi could conceive of.”

Sinclair looked surprised. “Really?”

She handed him a piece of paper. “See for yourself.”

He read it while walking, and just as the transport tube doors closed, he exclaimed loudly, “What?!”

“I know.”

“And he agreed to this?”

Ivanova nodded. “When we're ready, just take Jacobs down there. He'll do the rest.”

“Let's hope this works.” Sinclair keyed the code into his quarters and the two quickly stepped inside. “Good work, Michael, Stephen,” he said warmly when he saw Jacobs sat there. “Doctor, I'm Captain Jeffrey Sinclair, this is Commander Ivanova. Captain Sheridan wanted to be here but he's busy diverting Cranston and his men.”

“How?” Garibaldi asked.

“With his usual charm,” Sinclair replied with a smile, then he saw the security chief's injury and frowned. “What happened?”

Garibaldi looked at Franklin, who just shook his head. “Go ahead, it's your thing, not mine.”

The security chief winced. “Yeah, well, you need to do your thing a bit better.”

“His bedside manner was never brilliant,” Jacobs said.

Sinclair smiled at their banter, but wanted answers. “What happened?”

“One of the thugs was guarding the doctor and he stabbed me with a screwdriver, but we knocked him out and got Jacobs free. We then found out that the other thug, Max, the one who contacted Cranston, had the data crystal.”

Jacobs held it up. “This contains all my examinations of then Vice President Clark. He was in perfect health when he left Earthforce One, of that there is no doubt.” The doctor sighed. “All this proves is that he lied.”

“Yes, but the fact that he set up a massive manhunt for you and tried to kill you suggests there's more to it than that,” Franklin told him. “And it's up to us to find out what that is.”

“We'll need to take a sworn statement from you as well, Dr Jacobs, just in case anything happens,” Ivanova said.

“As long as I know the information is in good hands, it no longer matters what happens to me,” Jacobs said, giving the crystal to Sinclair.

“Don't worry, Doc, we're going to look after you.” Garibaldi looked at his friend. “You have a plan, right?”

Sinclair smiled. “Actually, Captain Sheridan does.”

And he outlined what they were going to do.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Is this really going to work?” Ivanova asked.

Garibaldi, Franklin and Jacobs had left. The two officers were going to hide the doctor, then change back into their uniforms and go back to work like nothing had ever happened. Sinclair and Ivanova had lingered in his quarters for a while, enjoying the privacy.

“It has to. I don't want to think about 'otherwise',” Sinclair replied.

She took hold of his hand. “It will all work out in the end.”

Then she kissed him, a lingering gesture filled with passion.

“Susan,” Sinclair said breathlessly. “What was that for?”

“I need a reason?”

“No, I just.... I thought we agreed....”

“I know we did, it's just that with everything that has happened and is happening, and what we think is going to happen, sometimes I don't think there will be enough time in the future for us to try and have something more,” Ivanova admitted. “Is there a way we can make it work here and now?”

Sinclair caressed her face. “I don't know. But if there is, I'll find it,” he replied, kissing her again. “Come on, let's go and give Sheridan some back up.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

A few hours later, and the scanners were finally ready to be fired up. Sheridan looked around. “Did we miss anything?”

“I don't think so,” Sinclair replied.

“Good. Commander Ivanova, start the scanner,” Sheridan ordered.

“Yes, sir.” She turned, her fingers hovering above the console.

“Captain, we're getting a request from Ambassador Kosh to disembark the station,” Corwin said.

“Fine, granted,” Sinclair replied distractedly, his attention all on Ivanova, who had started the scan and was waiting for the results. Beside him, he was aware of Sheridan holding his breath.

Outside, Kosh's ship was heading to the jumpgate.

The console beeped and Ivanova turned, stony faced. “No trace of the doctor onboard, sir.”

“Captain, Ambassador Kosh is requestion jumpgate activation,” Corwin said.

Sinclair turned briefly. “Granted,” he replied in frustration.

“Wait!” Cranston wheeled on the Captain. “I wasn't informed of a launch.”

“Ambassador Kosh doesn't exactly have a schedule,” Sinclair informed him. “He comes and goes as he pleases.”

Cranston's eyes narrowed as though he could detect a lie that way. “I want that ship scanned.”

Ivanova's eyes widened, and Sheridan stepped forward. “Excuse me?” the younger Captain said.

“You heard me, Captain, scan the Vorlon ship.”

“It could cause a major incident. Wouldn't you agree, Captain?” Sinclair said mildly.

Sheridan nodded. “Intergalactic, I would say, Captain. But I'm game if you are.”

“It would be one way to go.”

Cranston puffed his chest out. “I want that ship scanned now!” he demanded.

Sheridan sighed in defeat. “Alright.” He nodded to Ivanova.

“Scanning Vorlon ship...one life sign detected,” she replied.

“Is it human?” Cranston asked.

“No,” Ivanova said, looking at him as though he had grown an extra head.

“Commander, activate the jumpgate,” Sinclair told her.

“Let's not keep Ambassador Kosh waiting any longer,” Sheridan added. Then he glanced at the other Captain, who winked. “Well, Mr Cranston, it seems your information was wrong. We put the entire resources of this station at your disposal, turned the place upside down and accommodated your every wish. And for what? How much time have you wasted here trying to find Jacobs? He could be anywhere by now!” He threw his hands up in the air and turned his back on the agent.

“Commander, please give Mr Cranston and his team whatever help they need to wrap up their operations and leave Babylon 5. Quickly,” Sinclair said with a smile. “Captain Sheridan.”

The two men walked out and as soon as they were around the corner, they high-fived each other. “Nicely done, Sinclair.”

“Likewise, Sheridan.”

“Alright, let's go get Jacobs.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Sorry I'm late,” Franklin said as he walked into the Captain's quarters.

Sheridan smiled. “That's alright, Stephen.”

“We were beginning to think you weren't coming,” Ivanova said to him.

“Yeah, thought maybe you'd had a better offer?” Garibaldi suggested.

Franklin looked around at everyone, all sat around Sheridan's living room in civilian clothes and looking very relaxed. It wasn't exactly an evening at AirHarts, but at least they could discuss things here without having to worry about being overheard. As he studied each of their faces, he smiled. “I can't think of a better off than this, Michael.”

“Aw, shucks,” Garibaldi said with a grin.

“Pull up a seat, Doc,” Sheridan told him. “Drink?”

“Sure.”

“How is Jacobs?” Sinclair asked.

“He'll be fine. I was worried he might have developed a stim problem as he has been relying on them a lot lately to stay awake. He told me he hasn't slept since he decided to escape Earth,” Franklin explained.

Ivanova shook his head. “Does he have a problem?”

Franklin shook his head. “It seems that Ambassador Kosh's ship cured him of any lingering effects he might have had from sleep deprivation.”

“I can't believe Kosh let us use his ship,” Garibaldi said. “I mean, wasn't he worried we try something sneaky, or that Jacobs might accidentally learn something?”

Sinclair sipped his drink. “Jacobs was in a coma. And Kosh trusted us.”

He caught Sheridan's eye in that moment and the two shared a profound understanding that neither of them could fully comprehend. Sinclair smiled as Sheridan found himself looking around the room, much the same as Franklin had when he entered. The younger Captain saw Garibaldi sprawled in the armchair, his injured arm held comfortably across his chest. Franklin sat on one sofa, with a space for Sheridan to share it with him. The other sofa had been commandeered for such evenings, and Sinclair and Ivanova shared that one. He had his arm across the back and she leaned into him ever so slightly, and Sheridan couldn't help but think they would made a perfect couple under different circumstances.

Ivanova caught him staring. “You still with us, Captain?” she asked, amused.

He smiled back and nodded. “I was just thinking we were right assuming the Vorlons had organic technology, we just didn't realise how well it would show up as its own life form on scanners.”

“But how did you know it would show up two life forms?” Franklin asked. “One being the ship, the other being Jacobs.”

“Because when we have scanned a Vorlon ship in the past, we have only ever detected one life form,” Sinclair explained.

“Well, whatever the reasoning, it worked, and Jacobs is now on his way to safety,” Garibaldi said. “I think that deserves a toast.”

The others readily agreed. “I handed the information over to my contact, who will make sure it gets to General Hague, who in turn will get it into the public domain,” Sheridan told them. “So we'd better be prepared for some outfall from that announcement.”

Sinclair smiled. “You never know, there might not be any.”

Garibaldi grunted. “Ever the optimist, eh, Jeff?” He smiled.

Ivanova turned to Franklin. “I have one question, Stephen.”

“Only one?” Garibaldi and Sinclair said in unison, causing Sheridan to grin.

She glared at them both. “How did Kosh's ship cure Jacobs' sleep deprivation?”

“It seems that while he was unconscious, the ship sang to him,” Franklin explained in a soft voice. “And even afterwards, it continued to do so. I thought, that night he spent in my quarters, that we were going to have problems, but he slept peacefully right through, thanks to the Vorlon ship.”

“I could use one of those,” Garibaldi joked.

Sinclair smiled, though it was tinged with sadness. “Couldn't we all?”

TBC


	39. 214 Knives

_August 2259_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Shit!” Ivanova exclaimed, clutching her elbow.

Sinclair paused, more frustrated than concerned. “How many times have I told you about that? Keep your arm tucked in or you'll get it broken!”

“I've only been doing this for a couple of weeks,” she reminded him.

“It doesn't matter if you've only been training a day, a year, or a lifetime,” he replied. “Being a Ranger is as much about mental discipline as it is physical prowess. If you can't remember something as simple as keeping your elbow in, then maybe you shouldn't be here.”

Ivanova scowled at him, dropped into a fighting stance and attacked again. At first, it had been enjoyable; hard work, for sure, but Sinclair was patient with her and yet not lenient in any way. He trained her as hard as he trained the other Rangers, and for that she was grateful. But today it had clearly been a bad idea to join in. He and Sheridan had been involved in a marathon session with the League of Non-Aligned Worlds, which had left both men more than a little bit frustrated. While Sheridan was working out his stress on the baseball field – and Ivanova still couldn't believe they had a _baseball field_ on the station – Sinclair had decided to push himself harder than normal with his training. Ivanova had found him in the secluded area he used, and made the snap decision to join him. Now she was regretting it, as his aggression was clearly in charge, but she refused to walk away. As well as it being a matter of pride for her, she knew he would see it as a weakness in her at this moment, and so she stayed.

As she hit the floor heavily, Sinclair's pike touching her neck, Ivanova wondered what she was thinking. “You would be dead right now,” he told her, his frustration clear.

“You think?” she replied, sweeping her legs out, catching him off guard.

Sinclair went down hard, losing the grip on his fighting pike, and before he knew it, Ivanova was straddling him. He didn't give her chance to choose her next move, however, as he grabbed her shoulders and quickly rolled them over, his elbow at her throat this time. Ivanova brought her knee up, catching him on the butt and knocking him further forwards, over her face. She rolled them again, but before she could settle, he rolled them yet again, grabbing her wrists and pinning them above her head, his face inches from hers.

They were both breathing heavily, and each was aware of the other's body against their own.

Suddenly the air was too close.

The room was too small.

But Ivanova knew the time was right. Her body hummed with anticipation and her eyes drifted shut. It wasn't that she wanted to jeopardise their careers, but she was tired of waiting, tired of giving everything and never receiving anything back for it. Just for once, she wanted a break. Just for once, she wanted something for herself.

Sinclair shifted and then without warning, his weight was gone from her. Ivanova's eyes snapped open and she pushed herself into a sitting position. He was stood at the other side of the room, his head bowed, his back to her.

“I think that's enough for today. Let's cool down and practice some meditation,” he said quietly.

Ivanova couldn't believe what she was hearing. “Meditation?” she replied incredulously. “I'm sorry, but were we just in the same situation together? Or did I read that whole thing wrong?”

He turned then, but his eyes were obscured by the dimness. “Susan....”

“Don't, Jeff.” She got to her feet. “What are you afraid of? Because if you're not afraid of something, then you're just a damned coward and a liar!” she snapped before storming off.

Sinclair watched her go, his whole body shaking, though Ivanova clearly hadn't noticed. He was afraid, she was right, and perhaps he was a coward, but their situation wasn't simple. It never had been and he doubted it ever would be. The only chance they could have would be if one of them applied for reassignment. Neither of them wanted to do that. They enjoyed their jobs and they enjoyed seeing each other every day. He was aware they wanted to have their cake and eat it too, as the old Earth saying went, but in his mind, they deserved it. They had given so much to keep Earth, and Babylon 5, safe; why couldn't they have a little bit back in return? He wanted to tell Ivanova that he had been there with her, that she hadn't read it wrong, and that he had never felt so attracted to someone as he did in that moment with her; he had wanted nothing more than to rip her clothes off and take her right there, and he knew she wanted that too. Yet he had stopped himself. He had stopped them from doing anything stupid. Where was the line, he wondered, between cowardice and obeying the rules? Or was it clear and they just didn't want to see it any more?

Whirling in rage, Sinclair struck out with his fist, planting it into the nearest bulkhead. The sound echoed around the empty space and pain shot up his arm; the bulkhead, however, seemed unimpressed. He flexed his fingers, almost revelling in the pain, giving him something else to focus on. With a sigh, he collected his belongings and headed to his quarters.

No one saw him and those who did paid him no mind. He half expected Ivanova to be there when he arrived, but his rooms were empty. Sinclair stripped his sweaty clothes off and stepped into the shower, turning the heat up until it scalded him. He did not want his life in that moment; he wanted a different path, and longed to have his brother's life.

Sinclair sighed and put his head under the water spray. He couldn't remember the last time he had spoken to Malcolm; it seemed the older they became, the more apart they grew. He knew his brother had taken a job in the government, and that he was unhappy Sinclair would no longer be seeing Catherine. But that was about it. It even took him a moment to recall how old his nephew and niece would be now. He felt guilty for a moment, but then he forced himself to remember that communication was a two way street; Malcolm never got in touch with him to see how he was doing, even when incidents from Babylon 5 had been plastered all over ISN.

He shut the shower off with more force than was necessary, and swore as the action hurt his hand. “Serves me right,” he muttered to himself. He walked into the bedroom, towelled himself dry and slowly dressed in his uniform.

The chimes sounded just as Sinclair was fastening his jacket.

“Come.”

Ivanova walked in, hair pulled tightly back, dressed also in her uniform, her hands clasped behind her back, and she looked very awkward. “Captain, I wondered if I could have a moment?”

Sinclair heart plummeted. “Of course.”

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Always.”

“About what happened earlier...I overreacted, I'm sorry. I'm just tired of denying how we both feel.” She looked intently. “You're going to say we forget all about it, aren't you? I know that would be the sensible thing, but....”

Sinclair covered the space between them in four long strides, and with a gentle but shaky touch, he ran his hands down her arms. “Actually, I was going to apologise to you. You were right, I am afraid. Not for our careers, which is strange, but...I'm afraid of losing you. I care about you greatly already. If we go any further with this...relationship....” He shook his head. “I couldn't stand to lose you, Susan.”

“Likewise, but it would happen. Eventually. But before then, we could be happy. Right?” she asked, taking hold of his hands. Sinclair winced. “What?” She lifted his right hand up and inspected the knuckles. “Bulkhead?”

Sinclair nodded. “After you left, I was angry with myself, and with you a little,” he admitted.

Ivanova smiled. “At least you're honest.” Then she shook her head. “No more of that, okay?”

“I'll try.”

“So...are we good?”

In reply, Sinclair pulled her into an embrace, holding her as close to him as possible. “We're good. We'll get through this, Susan, just as I promised we would.”

“I know, and I know we've had this conversation before, but sometimes, Jeff, it's just too damned hard to behave.”

Sinclair smiled and then started to laugh. Ivanova was about to complain when she realised how she must have sounded and soon joined in. “Better. I hate it when we fight.”

“We'll never agree on everything,” she told him.

“True. Were you heading up to C&C?” he asked as they pulled apart.

Ivanova nodded. “You?”

“I am. Walk with me?”

“Gladly.”

Then, without warning, Sinclair kissed her. “Soon,” he said. “I won't make any promises, but hopefully soon we'll be able to step forwards.”

“Forwards would be nice,” Ivanova replied with a smile.

They composed themselves and then walked out, talking easily about the long council session he and Sheridan had endured that day. Just as they entered the transport tube, Garibaldi came jogging up to them. “Hey.”

“Chief. Everything okay?” Sinclair asked.

“Depends.”

“I don't like the sound of that,” Ivanova said.

“Commander, you don't like the sound of _anything_ ,” Garibaldi told her.

“I like the sound of silence,” she replied with a smile.

The security chief rolled his eyes. “I caught up with Sheridan after the session with the League.... Speaking of which, how are you doing, Jeff?”

“Fine. Now,” Sinclair said.

Garibaldi nodded. “Anyway, I was telling him about the day I'd had in Grey Sector.”

Ivanova pulled a face. “Do we want to know?”

“Not really. Just things happening in The Triangle as usual. Anyway, soon as I described it to Sheridan, he said he absolutely had to go and investigate himself.”

Sinclair groaned while Ivanova looked surprised. “Why?”

“He says mysteries are like candy, he can't get enough,” Garibaldi said.

“And you let him go?” Sinclair asked.

“Have you ever tried to stop Captain Sheridan from doing something when he puts his mind to it? It's like trying to stop you,” Garibaldi retorted, then looked at Ivanova. “Or you, for that matter.”

“Or you, or Dr Franklin,” Ivanova told him. “How do we ever manage to run a station?”

Sinclair shook his head. “Beats me.” He looked at Garibaldi. “Let's just hope Captain Sheridan doesn't run into anything...unusual while he's down there.”

The security chief looked sceptical. “Nothing unusual in Grey Sector? Don't hold your breath.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan wandered through Grey Sector, clearly unimpressed. “I never figured you for an alarmist, Mr Garibaldi,” he muttered under his breath. There was nothing unusual or special about the area; certainly nothing strange that warranted such a reputation. He had been expecting strange noises, strange sounds, weird lights...hell, even the hairs standing up on the back of his neck would have been good right now. But there was nothing.

He walked into Grey Ten and started poking around, just for something to do. He couldn't believe how untidy it was down there and he was more than a little surprised that no one had ever done anything about it. Maybe that could be a project for him, he decided, the cleaning up of the grey sectors. Maybe he could put that to Sinclair.

Sinclair.

Despite their shared experiences so far that year, Sheridan still found the man a mystery and a frustrating one at that. Case in point, the council meeting they had both attended. The League argued and squabbled over the pettiest things, not helped by Londo and G'Kar sniping at each other at the head table. Sheridan had been ready for banishing them all to the brig, and even Delenn looked frayed at the edges. But not Sinclair. He had remained cool and collected as they deliberated every single point, long after Londo had stormed out and G'Kar after him, when the meeting had passed the point of being silly and ludicrous, and had decided into pure insanity. And when the Captains parted ways, Sinclair had strolled off as though he didn't have a care in the world.

As he walked around a corner, Sheridan saw a Markhab on the floor. He called out, but the Markhab didn't move. As he neared it, he saw it was dead; its head had been completely bashed on.

“Sheridan to Garibaldi,” the Captain said in a heavy voice. “Send a team to....” His link cut off, broadcasting nothing but static. “What the...?”

Suddenly, the corpse reached up and grabbed Sheridan's face. The Captain screamed, in panic, fear and pain, as the hand felt like it was prickling his skin. There was a strange white glow which he didn't notice, then the hand dropped away and the Markhab remained as motionless as it had before. Sheridan scrabbled away and sat on the floor at the other side of the corridor, staring at the corpse.

“The Triangle is right,” he muttered to himself as he waited for Garibaldi's inevitable appearance.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova paced on the command deck. “I hate days like these.”

Sinclair glanced up at her. “Days like what?”

“When there's nothing to do!”

“Commander, we run a busy station, there's always something to do.”

“Yes, Captain, and I've done it all.”

“It is nice not to have a crisis or emergency or some sort of situation that has us rushed off our feet,” Sinclair pointed out.

Ivanova looked at him. “That, sir, would class as a holiday. A holiday would not be spent here. So if it isn't a holiday, we should have things to do.”

As Sinclair chuckled, Garibaldi walked onto the deck. “I know my face is amusing but you could at least wait until I'm in the room before laughing,” he said.

Sinclair carried on laughing while Ivanova rolled her eyes. “Great. The comedian is here.”

“Someone's in a cheerful mood.”

“I'm Russian, Mr Garibaldi. We only have one mood.”

“Don't I know it,” he muttered, then turned to Sinclair. “We've had a bit of an incident.”

Ivanova was by his side instantly. “Incident? What kind? What happened? Does it need a member of the command staff to check it out?”

Garibaldi just stared at him. “Cabin fever,” Sinclair explained. “Go on, Chief.”

“You know I said Sheridan went to check out Grey Sector? Well, he didn't find much except a dead Markhab. But when we found him, he was acting weird. Said the corpse reached up to him. Doc checked him over, said he's find, just shocked. Told him to take it easy.”

“Not likely to happen,” Ivanova said.

Sinclair was frowning. “Cause of death of the Markhab?”

“His head was bashed in, so I'm guessing that's it,” Garibaldi replied. “But the Doc's checking him out just to be sure.”

“Where's Sheridan?”

“In his quarters. I'll check back with you later.” The security chief nodded before walking off.

“Not much of an incident,” Ivanova grumbled.

Sinclair smiled fondly at her. “I'm going to check on him. Try not to blow the station up while I'm gone,” he said with a wink.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan lay on his bed but couldn't sleep. He couldn't even close his eyes and rest. The image of the Markhab reaching up for him, almost as though he had come back from the dead, was haunting him. He knew he was lucky that Garibaldi didn't give him the 'I told you so' speech, but he didn't think he would be so lucky from Sinclair, or Ivanova, when he saw them next. He also wasn't sure he bought the whole 'tired' thing that Franklin had used to explain away what happened to him. He had wanted to point out that Sinclair was under just as much stress, yet he wasn't having these...problems. But he hadn't because his vision had gone pure white without warning or reason, and he had started to think that perhaps Franklin was right.

But now, in the quiet of his quarters, Sheridan felt fine, felt everyone else was overreacting. So when he heard noises the living room, he ignored them, because he decided it was just his mind playing tricks on him, decided he had bought into what Garibaldi and Franklin had said. But the noises pursued and sighing, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and got up.

“Don't tell me we have rats on this damned station,” he muttered to himself as he walked into the living room, trying to ignore the feeling that something was stalking him.

And stopped dead.

Circling the room was a large reptilian-type creature, who swooped for Sheridan as soon as it saw him. The Captain dropped to the floor, shocked. “Impossible,” he whispered, rolling as the creature attacked him again.

Frantically, he scrambled to where he kept his PPG, hoping to shoot the damned thing and prove he wasn't crazy. The creature kept dive bombing him. He could feel the talons close to his skin, could feel the wind from its flapping wings.

Sheridan put his hand on his PPG and pulled it from its holster, rolling as he did so and firing twice.

The creature flew to the other side of the room.

The door opened and Sinclair stepped in. “Sheridan, are you...?”

Sheridan didn't register his question, he just saw the creature heading for Sinclair, its talons outstretched to his face, and he shot. The older Captain was aware of what was going to happen seconds before it did, and threw himself on the floor. He felt the searing heat of the PPG cap passing him temple as he did so.

At the other side of the room, Sheridan rose shakily. Sinclair waited, then pushed himself slowly to his feet, aware that the younger Captain's PPG was no longer pointing at him, though it wasn't exactly pointing away from him either. He risked a glance at the wall behind him, the scorch mark from the PPG a stark reminder that it could have easily hit his head. Turning back to Sheridan, he said lightly, “I suppose that makes us equal now.”

Sheridan grunted, having successfully forgotten about their incident with the Streib, when Sinclair, drugged, had attacked and almost killed him. Before the younger Captain could make a quip in response, the door to his quarters opened and Garibaldi stormed in, half a dozen security guards behind him.

“We were alerted to gunfire in here,” Garibaldi told them, trailing off towards the end of the sentence as he took stock of the situation.

Sheridan was armed with his PPG.

Sinclair looked ruffled.

And there was a burn mark on the wall directly behind Sinclair's head, as well as a couple more in other places. The security chief's gun arm twitched and he looked to Sinclair for direction. “Stand down, Mr Garibaldi. I believe Captain Sheridan is just having a bad day.”

“Or I'm just plain nuts,” Sheridan replied dryly, offering his PPG to Garibaldi butt first to placate the head of security. “I saw...something. A creature. It was a grylor.”

“Grylor?” Sinclair repeated, frowning.

Sheridan nodded. “I was stalked by one once. Not a pleasant experience.”

Garibaldi looked around. “Not to point out the obvious, Captain, but there's nothing here.”

“It was here,” he insisted.

Garibaldi turned to Sinclair. “Did you see anything?”

Sinclair shook his head. “Nothing. But he was acting as though there was something in here with us.”

“ _He_ is still in the room, thank you very much,” Sheridan snapped. Then he turned and grabbed his jacket. “Forget it. I'll be in C &C if you need me. Mr Garibaldi, I want you to go over my quarters with a fine tooth-comb. If there's something to be found, find it.”

The security chief raised his eyebrows as the younger Captain strode off, then he looked curiously at Sinclair. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine. Why?”

“I was just wondering if this was some sort of relief brought on from the stress of the council session and if it was, if you were going to turn crazy on us.”

Sinclair gave him an admonishing look. “Check his quarters anyway, Michael. At least then we can definitely say it was nothing.”

“Will do, although I don't think we'll find anything, which means that Sheridan could be hallucinating,” Garibaldi suggested.

“Let's not jumped to conclusions.”

“Oh, I got the report back on the dead Markhab. Apparently he committed suicide.”

“Suicide?” Sinclair repeated with a frown.

Garibaldi nodded. “He literally bashed his own skull in on the pipe Sheridan found him next to.”

Sinclair was thoughtfully silent for a moment. “And Dr Franklin is sure that Sheridan is alright?”

“All his tests came back clean. The Doc said he was a little stressed, but who isn't around here?”

“Best to keep an eye on him just in case. Discreetly.”

“Discreet is my middle name.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair, Ivanova and Garibaldi sat in the quiet mess hall enjoying a late dinner. None were surprised Sheridan hadn't joined them, especially not after his earlier incidents. “So what happened when he was on the command deck?” Garibaldi asked.

“I was telling him everything was fine, nothing to report. A scheduled ship arrived and the next thing I know, Sheridan freaks out on me, saying that he's just seen the Icarus exploding,” Ivanova explained. “He orders me to scan the area, and of course I find nothing. He then looked very confused and excused himself.”

“He wore the same expression in his quarters,” Sinclair said. “Like he didn't know what was going on.”

Garibaldi looked at his old friend. “You never did explain what you were doing in there when Sheridan went all trigger happy.”

“After you told me about the incident with the dead Markhab, I just wanted to check he was okay,” Sinclair replied. “It was a tough council session and Sheridan looked ready for committing mass murder by the end of it.” He sipped his coffee. “When I reached his quarters, I heard gunfire inside and so I entered.”

“And almost got your head blown off,” Garibaldi said dryly. “Smart move, Captain.”

Ivanova glared at them both. “You omitted to tell me that part.”

“With good reason.”

“Did Stephen give Sheridan the all clear again?” Sinclair asked.

Garibaldi shrugged. “Unknown.”

“What do you think in causing his strange behaviour?” Ivanova asked as she tucked into her dessert.

Again, Garibaldi shrugged. “Unknown.”

“I wasn't sure you'd still be here,” Franklin said, walking wearily over to them, tray in hands.

Ivanova shuffled around while Sinclair pulled up an extra chair for him. “Take a load off, Doc,” Garibaldi greeted him.

“How's Captain Sheridan?” Sinclair asked.

Franklin waited until he had finished his mouthful of food before answering. It was almost amusing to watch him eat; he was clearly hungry and wanted to eat as quickly as possible, yet he was also tired and his body would go any faster than turtle. “I have run every known test on him and they all come back clean,” he replied. “I don't know if it's a new virus, maybe, or just stress from changing roles. I mean, eight months ago he was the captain of a ship and now he's...joint governor, if you will, of a small city in space.”

“True, but I can't see it taking eight months for the change to hit him,” Ivanova pointed out. “Sheridan isn't like that. He had his crisis early on and now he's over it. There must be something else.”

“Well, I've ordered him off duty for a few days so he can try to relax,” Franklin said. “I also fitted him with a monitoring device so if he does have any more hallucinations or anything similar, it will record his responses in that moment. It's possible that whatever is wrong with him only shows when he's experiencing it and it hidden the rest of the time.”

Sinclair nodded. “Good. Let's hope it it just stress.”

“If it's any different, I'll let you know,” Franklin promised.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Some time later, Garibaldi took it upon himself to check in on Sheridan, but instead of going to his quarters where the Captain should have been, the security chief headed to the baseball field. Sure enough, Sheridan was there in a sweat-soaked shirt, showing no signs of letting up despite having been at it for three straight hours, or so the computer told Garibaldi.

“This your idea of resting?” he asked, leaning against the fence.

“It helps,” Sheridan replied, swinging again. “I feel better already. Totally relaxed.”

“You look relaxed.”

The Captain didn't miss the sarcastic note in Garibaldi's voice and he stopped, turning towards him. “Can I ask you a question, Mr Garibaldi?”

“Of course, Captain, but don't expect an answer.”

“What?”

“I always say you can ask any question you want. The only way to know something is to ask. Just don't expect a reply. It's my prerogative to stay silent if I want.”

Sheridan rolled his eyes. “Fine. How come Sinclair never gets stressed?”

Garibaldi stared at the Captain incredulously. “Never gets stressed? Are you sure we know the same person?”

“I know he gets cranky, but like with that marathon League session, he wasn't stressed at all!”

Garibaldi nodded in understanding. “Just because he doesn't show it, doesn't mean he isn't. Sinclair has spent a lot of time developing a diplomatic persona in order to deal with some of the things we've had to on Babylon 5. I'm sure you can appreciate that, Captain. But believe me, he was probably at least as stressed as you were if not more so.” The security chief picked up a bat and swung it a few times. “Back on Mars, I'd invite him to the baseball field and he'd always decline. When I told him it'd work off his stress, he said he didn't need it.”

“So what, he'd meditate?” Sheridan asked.

Garibaldi shook his head. “We had an old-fashioned gym there, with a boxing ring, punch bags, the works. And that's where I'd find him. He'd spend hours just hitting the bags, sometimes until his knuckles would bleed. He didn't always wrap them,” he explained.

Sheridan was silent for a while, realising he had once again misjudged Sinclair. “So, you came down here for a reason, Mr Garibaldi, and it wasn't just to see how I was doing.”

He smiled. “No, it wasn't. I have one additional piece of information on that dead Markhab which might just explain what happened.”

“Go on.”

“He passed through Sector Fourteen on his way here,” Garibaldi said sombrely.

Sheridan stared at him. “Is that supposed to mean something to me? I mean, I know the sector is off limits....”

“But you don't know why. Not without this.” He produced a data crystal.

“I thought the official records of what happened there were confiscated by Earthforce,” Sheridan said, amused. “Or at least that's what I heard.”

“They were,” Garibaldi assured him. “I made a copy, though. It's a good practice to get into. And if you doubt anything you see on there, just ask myself or Captain Sinclair. We were both there.”

Sheridan looked at the data crystal, then put his bat down. “If it's all the same to you, I think I'd rather hear the story straight from the horse's mouth and look at this later.”

Garibaldi smiled. “You're the Captain.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Chief!”

Garibaldi turned to see Zack rushing up to him. “What is it, Zack?”

“I just overheard some Centauri talking about the Morago,” he explained. “Some sort of fight between Ambassador Mollari and another Centauri, Urza Jado, who is supposed to be the ambassador's friend. When I asked the computer what Morago meant, it said 'duel to the death'.”

“Duel to the death? Between Londo and another Centauri?” Garibaldi asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Not on this station.”

Zack looked uncomfortable. “The problem is, Chief, the way I read it, you can't stop it. The weapons they use are called coutari, mostly ceremonial blades now, but ones that have been used in battles before. They're allowed to legally have them on the station. And the Morago is sanctioned by the Centauri government to be allowed to occur wherever the challenge is declared. If this was just another Earthforce outpost....”

Garibaldi picked up on what he was saying. “But as other governments, including the Centauri, have contributed to the building and continued running of Babylon 5, there isn't a lot we can do. And by the time we get through all the bureaucratic crap to see if there's any way we can stop it, they'll have gone through with it anyway.” He walked faster. “Did you get any information on this Urza Jado?”

“A little. Seems he and Ambassador Mollari have been friends for many years, and they used to duel together on Centauri Prime. But according to what I've heard, Mollari never once beat Jado,” Zack replied.”

“Any idea why they're fighting now?”

“None, Chief.”

“Do you know when the duel is supposed to take place?” Garibaldi asked.

“In about an hour,” Zack said.

“Time for me to try and talk some sense into Londo.” He didn't sound too confident that plan would work. “Thank, Zack.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“I'm sorry, but Ambassador Mollari is very busy right now,” Vir said dutifully as he answered the door to Garibaldi.

“Who is it, Vir?” Londo called.

“Mr Garibaldi.”

There was a pause. “Let him in, and then leave us.” Vir's face contorted a little, but he remained silent as he moved to one side to allow the security chief to enter before slipping out into the corridor. “Mr Garibaldi. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Londo asked.

“I could come up with any number of reasons, but I won't. I'll just lay it out to you straight. I know about the Morago, Londo,” Garibaldi said. “And though I know there's no way we can stop it, I'm asking you – don't fight in this.”

Londo looked up, surprised. “Anyone would think you actually cared.”

The security chief refused to be baited. “I do. I've heard a little about Urza Jado and...well, I'd hate to lose a friend.”

“I am touched, Mr Garibaldi. Truly. And were it any other situation, any other person, I may forsake my pride and not take part in such a duel. But this between Urza and I is a matter of honour, not pride. And so, for the greater good, I must do this.”

Garibaldi nodded in understanding, thinking that there might just be hope for Londo yet. “I'll have to have a security detail present, though. Outside the room, though.”

“I understand. Thank you, Mr Garibaldi.” As Londo watched him leave, he had never felt more isolated or alone.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova settled into the chair next to Sinclair in the little office area of C&C see, her expression somewhat subdued. “What exactly is the Morago?” she asked.

Garibaldi had linked them a little while ago explaining what he had learnt. Sinclair sat back and stretched his legs, his feet deliberately resting against hers. “The Morago is a Centauri custom involving two people, usually from rival houses. It is similar to old Earth custom of duelling, but usually in Centauri society, the one who issues the challenge had some sort of mark against his name, a disgrace that will blacken his entire family. By the rules of the Morago, the winner has to take care of the loser's family as though they were his own.”

“So in this case, Urza Jado issued the challenge, and Londo's pride won't let him refuse. Does that mean Jado intends to lose?” Ivanova asked.

“It would make sense to me, though I don't understand why he challenged Mollari to the Morago. Surely there must have been a better way to resolve the matter.”

They were silent for a while, then Ivanova said, “I hear you spoke to Sheridan about Sector Fourteen and Babylon 4.”

Sinclair nodded. “Apparently the dead Markhab passed through that sector on his way here. Garibaldi thought there might a link.”

“What did Sheridan make of the story?”

“Intrigued, of course,” he replied with a smile. “Michael also gave him a copy of the record of the events, he was going to look at it after we spoke.”

_“Garibaldi to C &C.”_

“C&C online,” Sinclair replied.

_“Captain, we've got a major problem. Dr Franklin just linked in saying that the monitor he placed on Captain Sheridan suddenly showed elevated blood pressure, increases in adrenaline, and a whole bunch of other stuff that got him worried,”_ Garibaldi explained quickly. _“Then it went dead. He tried to link in with Sheridan, but there was no answer. I just checked his quarters and he's gone, but he's left his link behind.”_

“Alright. Ivanova, issue a general alert....”

“Sir, Delta One is launching,” Ivanova interrupted him in a surprised voice.

Sinclair frowned. “What?”

“C&C to Delta One. Launch is not authorised, stand down. I repeat, stand down.”

_“Relax, Commander, it's just me,”_ Sheridan's voice came back to her.

Ivanova was aware of Sinclair getting to his feet and moving towards the door as she replied, “Captain? What's going on?”

_“Nothing. I'm just taking a stroll,”_ Sheridan replied mildly.

Ivanova turned to look at Sinclair for help when the console told her the other Captain had overridden the security system and was launching his fighter. _“I'll go after him,”_ Garibaldi said, startling her as she had forgotten he was still on comms.

“Negative, Mr Garibaldi. You stay and oversee the Morago, makes sure nothing untoward happens,” Sinclair told him. “I'll get our wandering Captain.”

“Captain....”

He looked at Ivanova, who looked like she wanted to object. He knew he could have let her go after Sheridan; knew she was more than capable. But it was something he felt he needed to do himself. “Yes, Commander?”

“You are the better pilot,” she said randomly, but to him it made perfect sense. It was the reason she wasn't objecting; it was the reason she was letting him go.

Sinclair smiled. “Tell the Cobra Bay to get my fighter prepped and ready. I'm going to need every second if I'm to catch Sheridan.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

As Sinclair approached Sector Fourteen, he had the strangest sense of foreboding. The last time he had been here was when he and Garibaldi had tracked Babylon 4, and if that hadn't been strange enough, he had also glimpsed two distinct futures. One he and Ivanova were clearly a couple. They were still on Babylon 5, he was still the Captain and she was still the Commander. Last year, he had thought that was an impossible future; he was the Commander and she was just a Lieutenant Commander. But now it seemed to him that perhaps it wasn't so impossible. But the other future he didn't want to believe, and yet he felt in his bones it was also true.

He hadn't told anyone. Not Garibaldi, not Delenn and not Ivanova. But he had seen the station in ruins and on fire. He had seen almost everyone on board killed in the fighting. He had seen Ivanova sending a distress signal; sometimes her desperate voice still pierced his dreams. And he had seen himself and Garibaldi, rigging up a fusion bomb to the reactor. What he hadn't seen was the enemy. But it had felt right and it made everything leading up to it seem so futile. Yet he hadn't given up. Even when he had returned the last time and Ivanova said she thought she had lost him. He had wanted to tell her then, tell her it was true. Because in that future, Sinclair had died just before setting the bomb, leaving Garibaldi to finish the work.

What he had seen was part of the reason he didn't want to take his relationship with Ivanova any further; he couldn't make her happy just to leave her broken and alone for the rest of her life. Of course if he told her that, she would convince him that the future wasn't set in stone, and while most of him believed that, a part of him wasn't too sure.

“Delta Two to Delta One, come in, Delta One,” Sinclair said, realising he was within range of Sheridan's fighter.

_“Captain Sinclair. What are you doing all the way out here?”_ he asked.

“I was about to ask you the same question.”

Sheridan was quiet for a while. _“Following a hunch. I think that I'm leading someone home.”_

“Do you want to explain that to me?” Sinclair asked.

_“Not right now,”_ Sheridan replied. _“I just need you to trust me.”_

The younger Captain had expected some sort of argument; what he hadn't expected was Sinclair's simple, “Okay,” in reply.

They flew for a short time in silence. When they arrived in Sector Fourteen, Sinclair was just about to ask what they were looking for when a time portal appeared. A scream filled his ears and as he watched, a mysterious white energy poured out of Sheridan's fighter – and he assumed out of the man himself – and through the portal.

As Sinclair watched, mesmerised, he felt a familiar sensation at the base of his skull, and a flash blinded him. “Not again,” he whispered, reluctant to open his eyes but unable to keep them closed.

What he saw left him speechless. Of everything he had ever seen, he believed this the least. It simply couldn't be true, felt wrong on every level. Yet in the tiniest corner of his soul, he knew it was possible. And it hurt him to think that; it was yet another set of memories he neither needed nor wanted.

When Sinclair squeezed his eyes shut again, tears rolled down his cheeks and he longed to wipe them away.

A beeping brought him back to his senses, back to the present.

Just in time to see Sheridan's fighter almost get swallowed the portal.

With a muttered curse, Sinclair worked fast, activating the grapple and grabbing hold of the StarFury. He reasoned Sheridan must have passed out from the shock of having whatever was inside him suddenly leave. As he back them both us, the portal flickered and closed, as though it had never been there.

“Sinclair to Babylon Control.”

_“Babylon Control,”_ Ivanova's voice replied.

“Mission accomplished. We're heading back to the barn.” Sinclair closed the comms link before she could say anything else. Out of everybody, Ivanova was the one person he couldn't talk to at the moment; he hoped three hours of flying time back to the station would cure him of that.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“So I'm guessing the alien somehow transferred itself to the Markhab without meaning to and didn't know how to get back,” Sheridan was explaining in his quarters later. “It kept showing me images of fear, loss and home. I'm guessing the Markhab didn't understand what was happening and it drove him to commit suicide.”

“But you worked it out,” Ivanova said with a smile.

Sheridan nodded. “I figured it was scared, lost and wanted to go home, and seeing as Sector Fourteen has such a...colourful history, it seemed the right place to take it.”

Franklin leant forwards, his face glowing with enthusiasm. “Fascinating. I mean, for you to understand it even though it was so different....” He mused for a while, to the amusement of the others, then asked, “Do you think you could contact it again?”

Sheridan immediately looked panicked. “Ah, no. Thanks. I prefer to be only slightly insane.”

Garibaldi raised his glass. “Don't we all?”

They drank a toast, then Sinclair turned to the security chief. “What happened in the Morago?”

The security chief sobered. “Jado lost.”

“Deliberately, we think,” Ivanova added. “It seems he was accused of something back on Centauri Prime and came here for Ambassador Mollari's help.”

“We don't know exactly what happened, but they ended up fighting,” Garibaldi finished.

“And now Jado's family belongs to house Mollari,” Sinclair said. “Sparing them whatever disgrace Jado had.”

Sheridan shook his head. “What a waste.” Then he yawned loudly.

Franklin looked at him. “Alright, everybody out. Captain Sheridan needs his sleep.”

The other three stood and saluted sharply, turning in unison and heading towards the door. Sheridan laughed, stopping himself when Franklin glared at him. “Yes, sir.” The doctor shook his head and walked away. “Captain Sinclair, a minute?”

“I'll see you tomorrow,” Sinclair told the others. “Captain Sheridan?”

Sheridan put his hands in his pockets. “You saved my life, Jeff. Thank you.”

He smiled. “You'd do the same for me, John. We're in this together, remember?”

“Yes, we are.” He then looked carefully at his counterpart. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” Sinclair lied. “Get some sleep, Captain.”

Sheridan smiled back. “I intend to, Captain.”

TBC


	40. 215 There All The Honor Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I have no idea what Sinclair's brother would be like, all I have is a name from...somewhere. I'm sure it's right, but it might not be. So his character for me was a blank slate.
> 
> Also, no bashing the author until the end. ;)

_August 2259_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“You are distracted again,” Delenn said with more than a hint of exasperation in her voice.

Sinclair sighed. “I'm sorry. I just have a lot on my mind right now.”

“Which is precisely why we are learning this form of meditation,” she told him. “You always have 'a lot on your mind' and I feel it will become more in the future.”

He stretched. “How do you do it, Delenn? How do you find the time? You day is as busy as mine.”

She smiled fondly at him. “Not quite true. And I have been trained from a young age. It does make a difference, but that does not mean it is impossible for you to learn. It will take longer and you will need to commit fully.” She reached out and tentatively touched his knee. “I have faith you can do this, Jeff. I believe you can do anything you put your mind to.”

“Have you been reading Earth literature again?” he asked, smiling back.

“Perhaps.” Delenn sat back. “Would it help if you spoke about your thoughts? Perhaps having them out in the open would then clear your mind to meditate.”

Sinclair knew that would have been the perfect time to tell her what he saw while rescuing Sheridan from Sector 14 the previous week, visions that had stayed with him every minute of every day, but he felt that if he voiced them, it would make them all too real. Instead, he chose some things that were easier to discuss.

“I've been thinking that perhaps we should start training the Rangers here on Babylon 5,” he said. “It's getting more and more difficult for me to take time off now, and I know that next month we have a news crew coming on board. Leaving any time before or during their visit would be a very bad idea.”

“News crew?” Delenn repeated, frowning.

“People who are supposed to provide information on what's happening. You've seen ISN?” he asked.

She nodded and a look of understanding appeared on her face. “There term was not completely unfamiliar to me, but we do not have such a thing in Minbari culture.”

“You're lucky,” Sinclair told her. “Anyway, I was thinking if we could filter one or two Rangers through here a week, or even more, then we could train them here. It might not even be a bad idea to have a small group stationed here, rather than just one. Garibaldi already knows about them, so he could help screening them from others. And Ivanova knows as well.”

“I did wonder if you had told her.”

“I felt I owed it to her.”

“And she approves?” Delenn asked.

Sinclair smiled. “She started training with me a few weeks ago. She's very committed to the cause.”

“As I knew she would be,” Delenn replied. “I think it could be dangerous for the Rangers to be here. If their existence were to be discovered....”

“I know, but right now, having them on Minbar means that their training is only half complete. If I am to be Entil'zha, Delenn, then I need to do this my way.”

“Then we shall do so.”

“Thank you. I'll need you to talk to Mr Garibaldi on my behalf again.”

“Of course.” She looked closely at him. “Anything else?” She sounded almost amused.

Sinclair pulled a face. “Don't tell me you know about it as well.”

She had a mischievous glint in her eyes but she managed not to smile. “Tell me, what exactly is the purpose of a gift shop?”

With a mock glare, he explained what it was and why they were going to have one on Babylon 5. “Strangely enough, Captain Sheridan thinks it would be a great idea.”

Delenn's expression was undecipherable. “That does not surprise me.”

“He doesn't like the idea enough to oversee it himself, though; he's put Ivanova in charge,” Sinclair told her.

Delenn laughed. “I'm sure the Commander is less than thrilled with the whole idea. Perhaps you should be careful when sparring with her in the near future.”

Sinclair smiled back. “I'll keep that in mind.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Delenn, what do you think about bringing Sheridan in on the Rangers? I know I had my doubts, but he has proved himself, and it would make things a lot easier for me if he knew.”

“We will consider it, when the time is right,” she replied honestly.

He nodded. “Did you know that Kosh is teaching him?”

Delenn looked surprised. “No, I did not. Teaching him what?”

“To understand himself, apparently. I think there's more to it than that, though.”

“With Kosh, there always is,” she said as though speaking from past experience.

Sinclair could sense the dark turn the conversation was taking and he knew Delenn would offer up no more information on the subject, so he crossed his legs and settled himself down. “Alright. Run me through what I'm supposed to do again.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Garibaldi made his way through the station, methodically checking places and people, and generally making his presence known. He felt it was good for everyone who lived on Babylon 5 to know that he was looking out for them, protecting them. And it did the criminals good to remember he was about. He chatted with a few merchants, exchanged greetings with other civilians, and reports with fellow security and Earthforce officers. On the last leg of his wanderings before returning to his office, Garibaldi passed through the Casino. It was quiet, but it was early in the day, and content everything was as it should be, he was going to keep walking when he saw something that made him stop dead in his tracks.

Londo was sitting at the bar drinking. Alone.

There was nothing unusual in that. Londo seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time drinking, and often alone; Vir's capacity for alcohol was legendarily almost non-existent. But lately the Centauri's solitude seemed to be more profound. He wasn't just drinking alone; there seemed to be a vacuum around him, an empty space where people did not want to tread. And as Garibaldi studied him, he began to see why.

He wondered why he didn't see it before, but he knew the reason. He hadn't wanted to see it.

It wasn't just Londo's new clothes. They were certainly darker than before and seemed to make his skin look paler; it was his overall aura, if there was such a thing. It was the feeling one got from being around him, like he was surrounded by darkness.

After what had happened with Urza Jado, Garibaldi had been meaning to talk with Londo, even if it was just to see how he was doing. But now, observing him this way, the security chief realised that as much as killing a friend must have pained him, Londo would not turn away from the path he was on now.

With a sigh, Garibaldi turned and continued on his way.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“I'm not saying anything until Delenn gets here,” Sheridan insisted stubbornly.

Garibaldi sighed in frustration. “I just want to hear what happened, Captain.”

“And I told you, I'll tell you when Delenn is present. This situation is bad enough,” Sheridan told him. “I don't want her, or anyone else for that matter, suspecting some sort of cover up.”

Garibaldi turned to Sinclair. “Do you want to try and reason with him?”

“Not particularly. I've had my lesson in frustration today, thanks,” he replied with a smile, remembering how he had tried and failed to master any form of the new meditation technique Delenn had tried to show him earlier. “Besides, he's right. Let's wait for Delenn before we discuss this.”

Outside, the Minbari ambassador waited a few seconds longer, justifying her actions by simply blaming them on her new human DNA. “Captain Sinclair, Mr Garibaldi,” she greeted them as she walked into the office. Then her eyes locked with Sheridan's and he knew instantly that she didn't believe he was anything other than innocent. “Captain Sheridan.”

“Ambassador Delenn. I'm sorry about this,” he said sincerely.

“ _Now_ will you tell us what happened?” Garibaldi asked impatiently.

Sheridan ignored him and invited Delenn to take a seat. “I was on my way to the Zocalo when a young guy bumped into me. I realised a few moments later that he had taken my link, so I ran after him. In the stairwell, I saw a Minbari in warrior caste clothes ahead and as I neared, he attacked me. He knocked me down and I noticed there was a PPG lying on the floor. I grabbed it and told the Minbari to stand down. I didn't want to kill him,” the younger Captain explained, visibly distressed. “But he kept coming for me, and then he reached for a weapon, shouting, 'Death first'. I had no choice; I had to shoot him.”

Sinclair had been watching everyone's faces as Sheridan told his story, and it was Garibaldi's who interested him the most. Instantly he knew that things were not going to go well for the other Captain. “There was no weapon found on the Minbari's body,” the security chief said.

Sinclair turned to Sheridan. “Are you sure there was no reason for the Minbari to attack you?”

“Other than the fact that I'm here?” he replied sarcastically. “No.”

“The deceased, Lavell, came from a highly respected family,” Delenn told them. “His death will cause shock waves back home.”

“I'm sorry, Delenn, but it was self-defence,” Sheridan told her again.

“And yet no weapon was found on the deceased.”

“Usually if you wait for someone to draw a weapon, you end up dead,” Garibaldi told her.

Sheridan suddenly remembered something. “There was also a second Minbari stood nearby. He seemed to be...watching. He ran away pretty quickly afterwards.”

“Not surprising,” Garibaldi said. “Probably thought he was going to be next.”

“Garibaldi!” Sinclair snapped sharply.

“I have been asked to conduct my own investigation into this matter,” Delenn announced, hoping to interrupt an argument before it started.

Sheridan clenched his jaw, but it was Sinclair who answered. “We understand, Ambassador. Although I hope you know that Mr Garibaldi's investigation will be completely unbiased. I'll make sure of it myself.”

Delenn bowed in acknowledgement before sweeping from the room. “What the hell are you doing, Sinclair?” Sheridan demanded to know. “Trying to get me court marshalled?”

Sinclair wheeled on him. “If I am anything other than impartial in this, we'll both be on a slow ship to nowhere, you know that. Off the record, I believe you're innocent. But on the record? I have no comment.”

Sheridan balled his fists, looking like he was about to strike, but instead he turned to Garibaldi. “Find that Minbari witness, I want to talk to him.”

“What did he look like?”

“Bald with a bone in his head!” Sheridan yelled before storming out.

Garibaldi turned instantly to Sinclair. “What are you doing, Jeff? I know you and Sheridan have had your problems, but this....”

“Has to be,” Sinclair said firmly. “Just do your job, Michael.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova sat down opposite Sinclair in the mess hall, her lips set in a firm line. He hadn't seen her yet that day, having been caught up with his training with Delenn and then the attack on Sheridan. He was sure Ivanova had heard about the incident by now and knew she would want to discuss it.

“Not here,” he murmured softly, knowing she would hear him. She seemed to have developed an uncanny ability to hear his voice clearly even when he was whispering; when no one else around could hear his mutterings, she could, even if others were closer to him.

“Did you hear about Vir?” Ivanova asked without giving any indication he had spoken.

“No. What happened?”

“Unknown. Talia told me that he bumped into her down in the Zocalo, completely inebriated,” Ivanova replied. “I mean a state of intoxication that would have made Londo proud...if you discount how many drinks he'd actually had.”

Sinclair noted her use of Talia's first name but decided not to comment. It was good the two women had finally developed a friendship; he had seen them several times now sharing coffee and even lunch once or twice. “And how many was that?”

“Two or three.” She almost smiled. “Something must have upset him.”

“Londo?”

“I don't think so.”

“My quarters in ten,” Sinclair whispered, then louder, “Let me know if you find out anything. Commander.”

Ivanova nodded as he stood. “Captain.” Ten minutes later, she was stood in his quarters with her hands on her hips looking royally pissed. “What the hell is going on, Jeff?”

Sinclair pulled a face. “You're the third person to ask me that so far today.”

“With good reason, it seems.”

“I can understand Sheridan thinking the worst of me, but you and Michael as well?” he asked in a hurt tone.

It was then that Ivanova noticed he was holding the jamming device in his hand. “No, I didn't think the worst of you,” she assured him, walking forwards slowly. “I know you wouldn't leave Sheridan hanging out to dry.”

Sinclair smiled. “Thank you.”

Ivanova stopped in front of him and put her hand on his chest. “Let me guess, you have orders not to get involved?” she asked.

He nodded. “General Hague contacted me and explicitly ordered me not to interfere at all. He said that Earth has to be neutral in this affair, though he is sure Sheridan will be exonerated of all charges. He also said that if I stand by and do nothing, it will reinforce the belief that Sheridan and I are constantly at loggerheads.” Sinclair covered Ivanova's hand with his. “But I promise you, Susan, that everything I can do, I will do. I have no intention of letting John leave this station.”

He spoke with such strength and conviction that she was momentarily stunned, and in that instant, she realised just how close the two Captains were growing, what an unstoppable force they were becoming, and she wondered what lengths their enemies would go to in order to stop the two men from reaching their destinies.

Ivanova also realised just how much she had fallen for Sinclair.

He seemed to read her expression correctly because his eyes darkened and his head moved towards hers at the same time she reached up to him. They met in the middle and their kiss was passionate. When they broke apart, Ivanova grinned sheepishly.

“I've always had the worst possible timing,” she joked.

“I can't find anything wrong with it,” Sinclair replied, grinning as well.

She sighed. “I'm just worried, Jeff. I know there isn't really anything we can do to help Sheridan, I just wish there was.”

“Our hands are tied,” he told her. “But he doesn't have to feel that he's alone, Susan. That's important. Just because I have to be the devil's advocate doesn't mean you have to shun him as well. In fact, I would just act normally. Be cranky with me in public and support Sheridan, because that's how you truly feel.”

“Are you going to explain this to Michael?” Ivanova asked.

“If I get the chance. Although I won't be kissing him afterwards.”

“Good job.” She tugged at his hand and they sat down. “I haven't seen much of Mr Garibaldi or Captain Sheridan. How is the investigation going?”

Sinclair sighed. “Not well. Delenn has asked Lennier to question the Minbari community, so every time Garibaldi goes to speak with one of them, he's either just arriving or just leaving. Either way, they don't want to talk to the Chief. He knows Mr Lennier is just being thorough, but it's making things very difficult for him.”

“Does he suspect a cover up?” Ivanova asked, not wanting to think badly of Delenn but knowing that Minbari looked after their own very fiercely.

“No, though he's not entirely convinced that if they found something, they would share it with us.” Sinclair ran his fingers lightly over her shoulder. “He also thinks Sheridan's link was stolen simply to make him chase the thief, who deliberately lead him into Lavell's path.”

“And I'm guessing that Garibaldi hasn't had any luck tracking the thief down either,” Ivanova said.

“No. He finds it suspicious, though, that there was a PPG 'conveniently' lying on the deck for Sheridan to find, and I happen to agree with him,” Sinclair continued, his fingers still doing their little dance. “A Minbari would never carry an Earth PPG, so what was it doing there in the first place? It's not like we leave them lying around.”

Ivanova's fingers were playing on his forearm. “Was Garibaldi able to trace the serial number on the PPG?”

“No. And Dr Franklin's autopsy report was inconclusive. He couldn't support or counter Sheridan's story that he was attacked.”

“Great. So what do we have?”

“Hope and not much else.” They were silent for a while. “How's the gift shop going?” Sinclair asked.

Ivanova pulled a face. “If I ever find out whose idea it was....”

“I'll deny all knowledge of your existence,” he said with a laugh. “That bad?”

“It's degrading, Jeff, seriously. We're a military outpost, a city in space, if you will. We're not a tourist attraction!”

Sinclair tried unsuccessfully to stop laughing. “It was only a suggestion from Earthdome.”

“One we're taking fairly seriously,” Ivanova pointed out to him.

His eyes sparkled as he looked at her. “I'm not.” Then he sighed. “We should get back out there.” As if on cue, his link went off. “Sinclair.”

_“Captain, meet me in your office, ten minutes,”_ Garibaldi.

“On my way.”

“Maybe he has some good news,” Ivanova said hopefully.

Sinclair's expression was sceptical. “Somehow I doubt it.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

When Sinclair arrived at the office, Sheridan, Garibaldi, Delenn and Lennier were waiting for him. “We have found the Minbari who witnessed the...incident involving Captain Sheridan and Lavell,” Lennier started. “His name is Ashan, and he said that the Captain attacked Lavell without provocation and that Lavell offered to surrender; he did not say 'death first', he offered to yield in our language.”

“He's lying!” Sheridan exploded.

Sinclair winced, knowing exactly how Delenn would react to that. Sure enough, her expression became shocked and she quickly turned to Lennier. “You did not hear that,” she told him firmly.

Sheridan looked confused. “What?”

Sinclair could have told him, but there was something in Delenn's expression that stopped him from speaking. He wasn't sure if she knew something or just suspected, but there was definite doubt there. “Minbari do not lie,” Delenn told Sheridan.

He held his hands out in a gesture of apology. “Then he is...mistaken,” he said calmly. “I'd like to talk to him personally.”

Delenn looked at Lennier, who nodded and headed out of the office. She hesitated for a moment before leaving as well. Sinclair didn't even bother to excuse me; he strode after her. Sheridan looked at Garibaldi. “Should I take it personally?”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Delenn!”

“Please, Captain, I do not think we should be talking.”

Sinclair stopped, surprised. “Ambassador, I can assure you that I am completely neutral in this matter.”

She turned and looked at him, her eyes full of anguish. “How can you be when I am not?” She came and stood close to him. “Whatever Captain Sheridan may have done in the past does not dictate what he would do now. Yes, he fought the Minbari, as did you. And now we are friends. I have studied him; I can no more believe he would attack a Minbari in such a fashion than you would.”

“I understand, but whatever the circumstances, and whatever the outcome, we have to abide by it,” Sinclair said slowly.

Delenn stared at him, trying to understand what he wasn't saying. “And if he is guilty?”

“Then he is guilty.”

“I....” Delenn took a deep breath. “If you will excuse me, Captain. I must find Ashan.”

“That went well.”

Sinclair turned to see Ivanova stood a little way from him. “Eavesdropping?”

She shook her head. “On my way to give you an update on the Babylon 5 Emporium.”

“The what?”

“The gift shop? That's what it's been named.”

“And?”

“I went in with low expectations and I came out disappointed,” Ivanova replied. Sinclair laughed. “I take it the news isn't good?”

“The Minbari witness says that Sheridan attacked Lavell for no reason,” he told her. “Sheridan wants to talk to the witness personally, Delenn and Lennier have gone to find him.”

“You know, some days I wonder what else can be thrown our way as it can't be any worse or any crazier that what's already happened,” Ivanova said. “And then something like this pops up.”

Sinclair nodded in agreement. “I know. Listen, I think you should be there when we do find this Minbari witness. I don't want Sheridan talking to him alone, and Garibaldi's busy with his investigation. I'll be there as well, but....”

“Understood. Just let me know when.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

The appearance of a lawyer wasn't exactly unexpected, but her words were. Even now, some time later, sat in the darkness of the office, Sheridan couldn't believe it. EarthGov wasn't going to lift a finger to help him; in fact, they seemed happy enough to leave him swinging in the breeze, to put it very bluntly.

“You should be in your quarters, not here. At least you might actually get some peace and quiet there.”

Sheridan twisted to see Sinclair walking in. “I will. In a while.” He waited until the other Captain had sat down before continuing. “So I guess you'd be pretty happy if this case goes to trial. Convicted or not, I'd be forced to stand down at joint commander of Babylon 5 and you'd have the place to yourself again.” A strange look suddenly came over Sheridan's face. “Tell me I'm wrong.”

“I would, if I knew what you were going on about,” Sinclair replied.

“That's what this is about, isn't it?” Sheridan jumped to his feet and started pacing. “Why didn't I see that before? You've always been close with the Minbari; they respect you like no other human. And it's clear they hate me. As do you. You never wanted to share command of this station; in fact, you've been trying to rid of me ever since I arrived!” he accused. “And this is the perfect way of doing that without getting your hands dirty. You set me up with a Minbari of the warrior caste who would like nothing more than to see me dead anyway. He dies with his honor, and I get shipped off to oblivion. You should have let me die with the Streib, but you couldn't, could you? You didn't want me dead, you wanted me humbled, humiliated, just to prove that you're the best! Not Sheridan the Golden Boy, but Sinclair the Rebel who's most suited to running Babylon 5!” His tone turned bitter. “Well, congratulations, Captain. It worked. I hope you're happy. Bastard.”

He didn't wait for a reply, he just stormed out of the office, leaving Sinclair to stare blankly at nothing. Finally, he lifted his hand. “Sinclair to Ivanova. Sheridan needs you.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan was also staring, numbly into the bottom of his glass. What he had just accused Sinclair of might have seemed like some crazy conspiracy theory if it didn't have such a ring of truth about it. It was possible, more than possible; it was just proving it.

“Who is it?” he asked warily as the chimes to the door sounded.

_“Commander Ivanova.”_

He listened carefully to her voice, analysing the tone. She didn't sound angry, only worried, and so he let her in. “What is it, Commander?”

Ivanova studied him. “I wanted to see how you were doing. This situation is insane, and grim. Both Captain Sheridan and Mr Garibaldi have been keeping me up to date with what's happening, I'm sorry I haven't been to see you sooner.”

“Well, you do have a station to help run,” Sheridan said, managing a smile.

“Yes, I do, and you'll be happy to know the gift shop is doing quite well,” she replied.

Sheridan nodded. “So, what do you think of all this?”

“I think if there's a way to clear your name, Garibaldi will find it. Sinclair, however, is being an ass.”

“Commander,” he rebuked her.

“I'm sorry, sir, but he is. And I've told him that,” Ivanova said, unfazed.

“He would be happy to see me go,” Sheridan told her as neutrally as possible.

“Maybe. But I never thought he'd stand by with folded arms like this. Anyway, you didn't answer my question; how are you doing?”

“I don't know,” he replied honestly. “I've never had anything like this happen to me before, and it isn't something I'd like to repeat.” He put his hands on the kitchen counter. “I _know_ I acted in self defence. I guess I can only hope that the truth will come out eventually. And you didn't answer my question; what do _you_ think of all this?”

“I think that you are innocent, and I want you to know that I haven't lost any respect for you whatsoever.” Ivanova held his gaze. “No matter what happens, I never will.”

“That means a lot to me, thank you.” Sheridan then looked away. “What if Sinclair deliberately gets me sandbagged?” he asked softly.

The last time he had voiced a similar question, it was more like an accusation; he had demanded an answer. This time, there was no anger, no negativity; he simply wanted the truth. “I would deal with it,” Ivanova said carefully. “If the situation arose. Captain.”

Sheridan watched her leave, wondering if she knew more than she was letting on. Before the door shut, Kosh appeared. “You have forgotten.”

“About the lesson, I know, I'm sorry. I've been busy.”

“You are not busy now.”

“Well, I....”

“We will carry out the lesson now,” Kosh insisted.

Sheridan was about to object when he realised how futile that would be. “Alright,” he said, grabbing his jacket and following the Vorlon out of his quarters.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Making sure he wasn't being followed, Sinclair slipped into the training area. He knew Sheridan would be occupied for a while and so wouldn't miss him; the younger Captain wasn't the only one who was receiving instruction from Kosh, though Sinclair's was different. His suggestion to Delenn about training the Rangers on Babylon 5 had not exactly been his idea; it was the Vorlon's. And despite the fact that Sinclair knew he was being manipulated, it made sense to him.

As he greeted the small number of Minbari and humans gathered before him, wondered how viable it would be to have other races involved. There would be several distinct logistic values to the idea, and he made a mental note to mention it to Delenn once the current crisis was over.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan was livid. He stalked around the office angrily, his whole body rigid with rage. Ivanova had offered to stay with him, but he knew she didn't need to witness what he knew was about to happen. The minute Sinclair walked into the room, Sheridan went up to him and punched him in the face.

“Lying bastard!”

Sinclair spun but didn't go down. His fists came up to guard himself as he shook his head. “What the hell are you talking about now, Sheridan?”

“Earlier, when Delenn said 'Minbari don't lie', that was a lie and you knew it!”

“It wasn't a lie,” Sinclair replied.

“It wasn't the whole truth either,” Sheridan countered. “Londo just came in here to officially complain about dolls of him being sold in the Emporium. During the conversation that followed, he told me that it is acceptable for a Minbari to lie if it helps save face for another.”

“'A certain Minbari lying for a certain Centauri ambassador',” Sinclair said, quoting Londo.

Sheridan stared. “How did you know?”

“An incident last year. Maybe when you've calmed down, I'll tell you about it.” He rubbed his jaw. It hadn't hurt as much as the other Captain suspected, but he wanted to keep up the pretense. “So it's possible Ashan lied. But can you prove it?”

“I don't know.” He started pacing. “It doesn't matter anyway. He's being sent back to Minbar immediately.”

“Which means no trial.”

“It also means there'll be a shadow following me over this incident for the rest of my career,” Sheridan said. “There will always be doubt and it'll ruin my reputation.”

Sinclair fixed him with a stare. “So do something about it. Just don't hit me again.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova wasn't sure why she was asked to stay in Delenn's quarters, hidden, along with Sheridan, Corey and Delenn, but it was obviously important to the Captain. Afterwards, of course, she understood, and she contemplated what she had heard. She had left Garibaldi to take care of Ashan, and Sheridan to discuss things with Delenn while she went to brief Sinclair.

She found him on an empty command deck. “I thought you might be here.”

“Is everything okay?”

Ivanova nodded. “Lennier offered to take responsibility for Ashan's actions. Because they are of the same clan, he said he shared some of the culpability. The threat of dishonour on the entire clan forced Ashan to admit the truth, the leaders of their clan resented Sheridan's assignment to the station and decided to do something about it. Delenn discovered that Lavell was also of the same clan, and was willing to give his life to their cause.”

“Ashan would have been compelled to lie to save face because he and Lavell were clan brothers,” Sinclair said. “Did Sheridan make a deal?”

“He did. He offered to keep the motives behind the attack a secret, which would spare Lennier and his clan any disgrace, as long as Ashan made a public statement saying that Sheridan did actually act in self defence.”

“Good.”

“So, when are you going to tell Sheridan that it you were ordered not to interfere?” Ivanova asked.

Sinclair looked at her. “He knows already. He received a separate communique from General Hague.”

Ivanova just shook her head. “Alright, when are you going to tell Garibaldi? And can I watch while you do?”

He laughed. “You're evil.”

“Maybe.”

“I'll tell him later, when we all meet.” Sinclair looked around. “There's something else you should know. I've started training the Rangers here on the station. It's more difficult to get back to Minbar and really, I can't keep splitting myself between two places. It's bad enough doing two jobs.”

“Have you given any thought to telling Sheridan about the Rangers?” Ivanova asked.

Sinclair smiled. “I had that very conversation with Delenn earlier.”

“I think it could be a good idea. I also think you should come clean with Garibaldi about that as well.”

“And I suppose you want to watch while I do that too?” he asked.

“Of course,” she replied. “There is nothing more satisfying than watching Mr Garibaldi being taken down a few notches.”

“You're evil.”

“Yes, you said that already.”

“It bears repeating.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“What?” Garibaldi asked in a deadly voice. “You mean this whole thing was an act and you didn't bother to tell us?!”

Ivanova held her hand up. “I knew.”

Franklin smiled. “Well at least I'm not the last to know this time.”

“It was necessary, Michael. I thought you'd have figured that out,” Sinclair said.

“I was a little too busy trying to save his ass,” he replied, pointing to Sheridan.

“Garibaldi!” Both Captains rebuked him at the same time.

The security chief held his hands up in surrender. “Fine. I'm sorry. But next time, a little warning would be nice.”

“That would have defeated the purpose, Mr Garibaldi,” Sheridan said.

Sinclair nodded in agreement, then looked at the other Captain. “But next time, I mean it; no hitting.”

“I second that,” Ivanova added. “Oh, I also found out why Vir has been so upset. Apparently, Centauri Prime wanted to replace him with somebody more experienced. Something to do with Londo's newly elevated status.”

Garibaldi looked at her. “What happened?”

“Londo told Centauri Prime that if Vir left, so would he. I was pretty surprised to hear that.”

“Maybe there's hope for him yet,” the security chief said, remembering what Londo had said to him regarding honour before his duel with Urza Jado.

“What about the gift shop I've been hearing so much about?” Franklin asked dryly. “Is that a permanent thing?”

“No,” both Captains replied in unison.

Garibaldi looked unnerved. “They're doing it again.”

“I know. Maybe it's time for us to leave,” Ivanova suggested.

Sinclair nodded. “That's a wonderful idea. Get out of my quarters; I want to sleep.”

There were mock-salutes and smiles all around as they said good night and went in their separate directions. Ivanova walked a little way with Sheridan, stopping at an intersection in the corridor. “Oh, before I forget, this is for you.” She handed him a teddy bear.

Sheridan smiled as he looked at it. “Bab-bear-lon 5?” he said, laughing. Then he frowned. “JS?”

“John Sheridan,” Ivanova told him, beaming. “Or Jeffrey Sinclair. I think this one looks more like you, though.”

He was not impressed. “I want the whole lot taken down, boxed up and shipped out first thing.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, turning.

“Ah, Commander.” Sheridan held his hand out for the bear, which he then tucked under his arm before striding off.

“I don't see what the problem is,” Ivanova muttered. “Sinclair liked his.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

It was ridiculous, Keffer knew, looking for unidentified objects in space. Yet that was exactly what he was doing. He would much rather have been trying to find out more information on the ship he had seen earlier in the year; the one that had killed Galus, and had almost killed him and Sinclair. But he had no idea where to start, and hadn't spent enough time in hyperspace since that incident to try and find more.

Suddenly, his scanners picked up something. “I have the object on my radar,” he reported. “Wait, make that two.”

_“Can you identify them?”_

Keffer didn't answer; he was too busy staring as a pair of teddy bears hit the cockpit of his StarFury. “Ah, that's a negative, Babylon Control. Not on a bet. Heading back to the barn.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair was dozing in his chair, his mind putting to rest the events of the last few days, when a voice interrupted _“I'm sorry to disturb you, Captain, but you have a personal message coming in from Earth.”_

He tried not to groan, though he did feel sorry for the technician delivering the message; people on Earth often forgot there was a time difference between there and Babylon 5 and the technicians generally hated and dreaded having to disturb the senior staff once they were off duty.

“Thank you, put it through to my quarters,” Sinclair said, walking over to the computer console. Moments later, a familiar face appeared on the screen. “Malcolm. This is a surprise. Is everything alright?”

_“Jeffrey,”_ his brother replied sombrely.

Sinclair tried not to scowl. He had nothing against his full name, but coming from his brother – his _younger_ brother – it always managed to sound like a rebuke. He also hated it when Malcolm didn't answer his questions. He waited for a while, but the silence became oppressive. “How have you been?”

_“Have you seen the news?”_ Malcolm asked.

Yet another annoying trait he seemed to have developed over the years, ignoring one question and asking one of his own; really, it was no wonder they didn't talk as much as they used to. “I've been a little busy....”

And there is was, the sneer that Sinclair always wanted to wipe off Malcolm's face. He loved his brother, he really did, but Malcolm had never understood the concept of the military. _“Of course you have.”_

Sinclair was too tired to play the game with his brother. “Why don't you just tell me what I missed?”

_“All contact has been lost with the survey team Catherine was with,”_ Malcolm told him flatly.

He stared at him for a moment, uncomprehending; he almost asked, 'Catherine who?' and then he realised. “When?”

_“A few days ago. They missed a regularly scheduled report in, which was nothing unusual, but when they tried to contact the ship, they couldn't get through on any frequency. Apparently there were some other ships nearby and when they went to the last known position of the team, there was nothing there.”_ Malcolm's face softened slightly. _“I'm sorry, Jeff. They think that the ship Catherine was on was destroyed.”_

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did promise I was done with the Sheridan-bashing, but this chapter just sort of went that way, even though it didn't really. ;)


	41. 216 In The Shadow of Z'ha'dum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So between last chapter and this was the episode 'And Now For a Word', which I looked at and couldn't really do anything with, so I skipped it, though I've referenced the events in this chapter.

_September 2259_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“You're over thinking again.”

Sinclair glanced down at Ivanova, who was curled into his side. After the media storm of the previous week, they had sought each other's company more than normal, as if to reassure themselves that everything was okay. “I wasn't aware there was a law against that.”

Ivanova poked him in the ribs. “There should be where you're concerned.” She twisted to look at him. “Are you still worrying about that ISN report?”

“They couldn't have picked a worse time to show up,” Sinclair admitted. “I mean, it was bad enough that the Narns and the Centauri are fighting on our doorstep as it is without having ISN covering three ships being destroyed and us powerless to stop them.”

“The worst part about that is that both the Narns and Centauri were in the wrong,” Ivanova said. “At least G'Kar managed to swallow his pride long enough to admit it and apologise for his actions.”

“Despite what Garibaldi says, and despite the differences we've had, G'Kar is the one who gives me hope, not Mollari,” Sinclair told her. “Last year, I spoke with Ambassador Kosh about both the Narn and the Centauri. He said, 'they are a dying people. We should let them pass'.”

“Which one?”

“I don't know. I had the feeling then that he was talking about the Centauri.”

“And now?”

“That feeling hasn't changed,” he admitted.

“Any more word on Catherine?” Ivanova asked after a while.

Sinclair sighed. “No. I hope the survey team is alright, that they're just experiencing malfunctions, but after so long....”

“I did some research into the area the ship was last known to be,” she said. “And I found something...interesting.”

“Go on.”

“It isn't far from where the Icarus exploded.”

Sinclair frowned. “Is that the mission where Anna Sheridan was killed?”

Ivanova nodded. “It could just be coincidence.”

“Around here? That would make a nice change.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Enter.”

When Na'toth entered G'Kar's quarters, her resolve wavered, but she stayed strong; her decision had been made, whether he liked it or not. It didn't matter what else was happening, she needed to do what was right and she knew he would understand.

When she didn't speak, G'Kar turned wearily. The events of the last few weeks in particular had drained him greatly, the war turning most definitely in favour of the Centauri; of the last seven major engagements, they had won six. And with the war spilling into Babylon 5 space just last week, and both Captains Sinclair and Sheridan threatening to eject all Narn _and_ Centauri citizens from the station, he knew something would snap soon. He wondered if it would be him. He was starting to realise a terrible truth, one that his pride would not yet let him admit.

“The latest numbers of refugees, Ambassador,” Na'toth said, handing him a pad.

G'Kar took it, leaning his head against one hand, partly to support him, but partly to hide the pain he was feeling on behalf of all his people. “There are more than ever.”

“I know. The humans are finding it difficult to accommodate them all, yet they keep trying.”

“You sound surprised, Na'toth.”

“Given recent unfortunate events, I would have thought they would withdraw their offer of aid,” she admitted.

“If it were any other humans, perhaps they would have,” G'Kar replied. “But both Sinclair and Sheridan are men of their word. And I must admit, we were wrong to threaten this station, especially when so many of our own people are here. It was a foolish mistake, one made in the heat of the moment.” He then turned to look at her. “What else is on your mind, Na'toth?”

“I wish to speak plainly with you, Ambassador,” she requested formally.

He set the pad aside and gave her his full attention. “Of course, Na'toth. Tell me what is bothering you.”

“It is a...personal matter,” Na'toth started. “And while I realise the timing of this request is poor, it is something I must to...with or without your permission.” She took a deep breath. “I must resign from my post and return to Narn. My family is in grave danger and they are not able to defend themselves sufficiently should the Centauri invade.” She lowered her head. “I realise that by abandoning your side at such a crucial time I am risking dishonouring you and myself, but....”

G'Kar reached out and placed his hand on her arm. “Na'toth, look at me.” When she lifted her head, her expression was defiant, though worry was in her eyes. “You have not now nor have you ever dishonoured me or yourself. You have always conducted yourself with courage and honour, like a true warrior, and I have nothing but the most profound respect for you. I understand the need to protect ones family, and you should never apologise for wanting to do so,” he told her firmly. “Not only do I give you permission, I also give you my blessing. And perhaps, one day, we shall meet again.”

In an uncharacteristic show of affection, Na'toth covered his hand with hers. “It has been an honour to serve you, and I am humbled by your words. Until we meet again, G'Kar of the Kha'ri.”

As he watched her leave, G'Kar could not help thinking that if he had been more taken with the females of his own species, Na'toth would have made the perfect mate.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Garibaldi caught up with Sinclair in one of the corridors. It always amused and intrigued the Captain how the security chief seemed to know exactly where he was at almost any given time, much like his uncanny ability to know when Talia wanted a transport tube. But there was no humour in the Chief's face that day; he looked agitated and Sinclair wondered what had happened this time.

“Captain! Glad I found you. I need to talk to you.”

“I'm listening.”

“I went to meet with Sheridan to discuss the Narn refugee status,” Garibaldi explained. “Basically, we're having trouble finding space for them all. I feel for them, I really do, but we've got to set up some sort of triage system or at least get the ones who are fit enough moved out of here.”

“I agree,” Sinclair said.

“So did Sheridan. But then we started talking about the Icarus.”

“You're the second person to mention that name to me today.”

Garibaldi frowned. “Who else?”

“Ivanova.” Sinclair looked at his friend. “You heard about Catherine's team?”

He nodded. “I'm sorry, Jeff.”

“Thanks. Ivanova did a little digging and it seems that the ship Catherine was on was last seen not too far from where the Icarus exploded,” he explained.

Garibaldi suddenly seemed wary. “Coincidence?”

Sinclair didn't notice and smiled. “Ivanova said the same thing. I'm not sure. Sorry, Chief, you were saying about the Icarus?”

“I don't want you to freak out on me like Sheridan did.”

“Michael, what are you talking about?”

He sighed. “So Sheridan and I started talking about the Icarus because he'd decided it was about time to go through her belongings. One item was a data crystal with all the information about the mission on it. He was looking at it when I entered the office, and I recognised a familiar face.” Garibaldi paused. “It was one of the crew members. I've seen him around the station a few times.”

Sinclair stopped and turned to his friend, his eyebrows raised. “A member of the crew of the Icarus here on Babylon 5?” he repeated.

Garibaldi nodded. “Paul Morden.”

“Morden?”

“I thought you might recognise the name. I checked and apparently he's a businessman, no record of him before last year, though.” Garibaldi paused again. “And he's still here. Sheridan has ordered me to find him and detain him.”

“On what grounds?” Sinclair asked, surprised. “Being alive?”

The security chief let out a long breath. “At least you're going to be reasonable about this.”

The Captain looked amused again. “Did you think I wouldn't?”

“At first, sure, but then with what you just told me about Catherine....”

“Coincidence, Mike. Nothing more.”

Garibaldi looked closely at his friend. “You really are over her, aren't you.”

Sinclair sighed. “I told you before, if it was going to work between us, it would have done so a long time ago. I hope she's alright but no, I'll be keeping a level head on this one.”

“Good. I think we're going to need it.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova was surprised to see Sheridan in the office alone, stood staring at the computer screen. “Captain.”

He turned, an ugly frown marring his face. “Do _you_ know this man?”

She wasn't sure what shocked her more; his tone or his expression. It was the serious look of a man possessed. Peering past his shoulder, Ivanova visibly recoiled. “No, sir.”

“You're lying.”

Her eyes flashed dangerously. “I've seen him around, but I don't know him.”

Sheridan backed off. “I'm sorry. But this man was onboard the Icarus and he's alive.”

Instantly she understood his behaviour. “How is that even possible?”

“I don't know. But I'm going to find out.” With that, he strode from the room.

“Yes, sir. Very good, sir. It isn't like I wanted to give you an update on a few things. No, sirree, I'll just talk to myself,” Ivanova muttered.

“You're doing an excellent job.”

She spun and swore at Sinclair. “How many times have I told you not to sneak up on me?”

“Several. I'll make it up to you, though,” he replied with a smile.

Ivanova's resolve melted immediately. “Cheat.”

“What are you looking at?”

“I wasn't. Sheridan was in here staring at this picture. He's pretty wound up.”

Sinclair came to stand next to her. “Morden.”

“Yes.”

“Something on your mind?” he asked.

“I passed him last year, in the market place. And there was something...incredibly dark about him, Jeff.” Ivanova shuddered at the memory. “It was like a black aura surrounding him. I know that sounds stupid....”

He reached out and took her hand. “No, it doesn't. We talked about this, remember?” Sinclair stared at the picture too, something stirring in his own memories. “I'll talk with Sheridan, try and reign him in on this. And perhaps you could talk with Delenn? I have the feeling she might be able to shed some light on this matter.”

“What makes you say that?” she asked.

“Just a hunch.” He squeezed her hand and let go. “So, what updates were you bringing to Sheridan?”

“There is a man on the station....”

“Really.”

Ivanova glared at him. “Carry on like this and the only way you'll _ever_ be able to make things up to me is to become my slave for the rest of time.”

Sinclair just shrugged. “I can think of worse punishments. Go on.”

“This man, Pierce Macabee, is the regional director of the newly formed Ministry of Peace. He's rounding up support for several programs and lectures, all in the interests of 'peace'.”

“You sound sceptical.”

“I'm Russian.”

Sinclair smiled. “True, but you usually have your reasons for disliking someone.”

“Yes, and I'll admit I'm not always right,” Ivanova replied.

“Like Talia?”

“Funny you should mention Ms Winters as Mr Macabee has been to see her already,” Ivanova said, not rising to the bait. “And it isn't him, as such. It's the whole idea of the Ministry of Peace. Sounds like a propaganda machine for Clark, if you ask me.”

“We'll see,” Sinclair replied neutrally, though he shared her cynicism. “Anything else?”

She nodded, her expression shifting. “I think we need to keep an eye on Stephen. Discreetly.”

Sinclair frowned. “Is he alright?”

“He's working too hard. I don't know if med lab is understaffed, over-swamped, or if he's just being Stephen and taking on way too much himself,” Ivanova admitted. “But I went to check on the refugee situation earlier and caught him drifting off at his desk. He was exhausted, Jeff. I had to order him to go and get some rest. I also told him to meet me in the mess hall later, so I can make sure he eats something.”

“Good. Keep mothering him,” Sinclair said with a smile. “I'll see what I can do regarding the staffing situation, and the refugee situation, though something tells me it's going to get a lot worse before it gets better.”

“What about Captain Sheridan?”

“So far he's just acting oddly, but I'll keep an eye on him.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

After discovering that Morden had indeed been detained, Sinclair headed down to security to see what was going on. Garibaldi was nowhere to be found, but Zack was there, watching what was happening. “Mr Allan.”

Zack stood up straight and saluted. “Captain.”

“Do you know where the Chief?”

“Out and about, sir.”

Sinclair nodded and transferred his gaze to the monitors. “You can wait outside.”

“Yes, sir.”

The Captain seated himself in Garibaldi's chair and watched the events unfolding before him. Sheridan seemed very calm and collected, but also smug, like someone holding an ace. Yet Sinclair knew he didn't have one. All he had was the fact that Morden was on the Icarus, and somehow survived. That wasn't a crime and there was no way Sheridan could hold him, a fact which Morden pointed out. Sheridan's argument was that as he was legally dead, no one would miss him. But Sinclair had to admit, Morden's story about being found by a passing ship wasn't the most convincing thing he had ever heard, but that didn't prove anything. As he had learnt a long time ago, everyone lied, whether it was because they were scared or had something to hide, or were being forced to, it didn't matter. Morden's reasons for lying, if he was, could determine what happened next.

After a while, Sheridan took a break and walked into the security office, surprised to see Sinclair there. “Captain.”

“This is wrong, Sheridan, and you know it,” he replied, cutting through the crap. “You can't keep him here indefinitely.”

“I don't trust him,” Sheridan replied.

“I didn't trust you at the start but I didn't lock you up in a holding cell.”

“I don't like him.”

“See my previous answer.”

Sheridan thrust his jaw out. “This is my call, Sinclair.”

“No such thing, Sheridan,” Sinclair replied. “We make decisions together, remember? We have to. Don't force me to make a decision we'll both regret.”

Sheridan looked unimpressed. “You do what you have to. I'm not letting this go.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Garibaldi found Ivanova on her own in the mess hall. “Eating late, Commander?” he asked, sitting down.

“Making sure that Dr Franklin ate,” she replied, quickly filling him in on what had happened.

“Stephen's his own worst enemy sometimes,” Garibaldi said. “But that could be said for the rest of us as well, I guess.”

“You find anything on this Morden guy?”

He shook his head. “Clean as a whistle. Of course, that doesn't necessarily mean he is; look at Matt Stoner, as one example.”

“Or Malcolm Biggs,” Ivanova said.

Garibaldi nodded. “But we've got nothing to hold him on.”

“Try telling Sheridan that,” Sinclair said as he joined them.

“Like talking to the bulkhead?”

“I think I'd rather be locked in negotiations with G'Kar and Londo.”

Ivanova pulled a face. “That's bad. What can we do about it?”

“All you two can do is protest. As for me....” Sinclair shrugged. “Without causing one hell of a shit storm, I have no idea.” They both smiled at his language. “If I involve EarthGov, the consequences for both Sheridan and myself could be damaging. If I ignore what's going on, I'm as guilty as he is. And if I try to interfere on my own, I'm not sure what he'd do.”

“Don't be doing anything stupid, Jeff,” Garibaldi told his friend. “Hey, either of you two know anything about the Ministry of Peace?”

“Only that they're new and holding some lectures here. Why?” Ivanova asked.

“Zack went to one of these lectures and told me they're a paid volunteer group who are encouraged to get the public to start thinking about peace. But essentially, they're an information gathering group,” Garibaldi explained. “Apparently, one of their slogans it that they 'protect society against its own worst instincts'.”

Ivanova just looked at him. “What does that mean?”

“I don't know. But I don't like it.”

Sinclair sighed. “You were right,” he said.

“Thank you,” Ivanova replied.

Garibaldi rolled his eyes at their banter. “There is one other thing you might find interesting.”

“Go on.”

“Na'toth is returning to Narn. Permanently.”

“Why?” Sinclair asked.

“That I can't say, but I think G'Kar is upset in his own way,” Garibaldi replied.

“I'm not surprised,” Ivanova said. “They were quite close.”

Sinclair looked thoughtful for a moment, then looked from Garibaldi to Ivanova. “We need to get through to Sheridan somehow. I want you two to make the first moves on him. Do whatever you have to in order to make him see reason. If that fails, then I'll step in.”

“And do what?” Garibaldi asked.

“I have no idea. That's why I need you to buy me some time so I can think of something.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova walked briskly down the corridor towards Green Sector, having finally found the time to visit Delenn as Sinclair suggested. The last few hours had been as crazy as normal, with Garibaldi quitting and Sinclair furious over it. She hadn't heard the conversation between the two of them, but she could guess how it had gone. Zack was acting head of security and as uncomfortable with that position as Ivanova had ever seen anyone. On top of all that, Vir had officially requested Morden's release, on behalf of Ambassador Mollari. It had the opposite effect; instead of letting him go, it made Sheridan all the more determined to keep hold of him.

“Commander Ivanova,” Talia greeted her as the two women approached each other.

“Ms Winters. Officer Allan,” Ivanova replied.

Zack seemed extremely on edge. “Commander.”

“Is there a problem?” Ivanova asked. The last time Talia had needed an armed escort, there was a crazy half-cybernetic Mars rebel running around the station trying to kill her.

“No, I don't think so. Mr Allan just said that Captain Sheridan wished to speak with me,” Talia replied with a smile.

Ivanova shot Zack a look; the security chief had the good grace to blush and look away. She knew she could have countermanded the order, but it wasn't his fault. Instead, she just said, “Well, don't let me delay you,” and let them continue on their way.

As soon as they were out of earshot, though, Ivanova raised her link. “Ivanova to Sinclair.”

_“Sinclair.”_

“Can you talk?”

There was a pause. _“Go on.”_

“Sheridan's ordered Zack to bring Talia to him,” she said.

_“What?!”_ Sinclair exclaimed.

“I just saw them in the corridor. I was on my way to see Ambassador Delenn. They're heading to the brig now,” Ivanova told him.

There was a lengthy silence, though she was sure she could hear muffled swearing. _“Alright. I'll go and talk with Delenn. You see if you can talk some sense into Sheridan.”_

“What about Talia?” she asked.

_“Just hope that Sheridan doesn't do anything stupid,”_ Sinclair replied.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Captain Sinclair, what a pleasant surprise,” Delenn greeted him.

“Don't say that until you know why I'm here,” he replied gravely.

“Is something wrong?”

“Delenn, I need you to be completely honest with me. Something is happening and I can't shake the feeling that you know something about it,” Sinclair told her.

“Go on.”

“We have a delicate situation on our hands. Captain Sheridan has gone rogue and is illegally detaining a man name Morden....” Sinclair stopped. The reaction to Morden's name was nothing like what he was expecting.

“Jeff, you must urge Captain Sheridan to release him, for all our sakes.”

“We're trying. Michael quit, Ivanova couldn't make him see sense, and my hands are tied, Delenn.” He looked at her closely. “Who is this Morden?”

Delenn looked away. “It is not him who is important, but those he serves.” She turned back. “I will tell you the truth. But it will change everything for you.”

And so, she told him.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova and Sinclair met each other on the way to med lab, both looking furious, but Ivanova detected something else in his face. “What is it?”

“I'll tell you later, I promise,” Sinclair replied. “Right, I want Sheridan.”

“You and me both.”

Just as they walked into med lab, they saw Talia slapping Sheridan and storming out. “Go after her,” Sinclair told Ivanova, not breaking his stride.

Sheridan turned just in time to see Sinclair's fist coming towards him. It connected with his nose with such force that he felt it crack and break under knuckles, blood spurting out, and he was sent flying backwards. Sinclair's face loomed above his, angry and vengeful, then, without a word, he spun on his heel and left.

Sheridan leant against the bed, stunned. “I'm not sure I deserved that.”

“Oh, I think you did, Captain,” Franklin replied. “And to be honest, you should think yourself lucky that Commander Ivanova decided to go after Ms Winters and not follow up on Captain Sinclair's feelings on the matter. Although you are in the right place to get fixed up, so let's take a look at that nose.”

Ten minutes later, Sheridan walked out of med lab, his head pounding, more convinced than ever that there was something wrong with Morden. “Captain Sheridan!”

He pulled a face, then winced at the pain. “Now isn't a good time, Ambassador,” he said, expecting to see just Delenn behind him. He was surprised to see Kosh there as well.

“You must release Mr Morden,” she told him.

“You as well? What is it about this guy?”

“You must trust me.”

“I can't, Delenn. Not until I get some answers.”

Delenn looked at Kosh, who nodded. “Very well. We will give you those answers, though once you know the truth, you will never sleep well again.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair found Garibaldi in the Zocalo and they were joined by Ivanova a few moments later. “What did I miss?” he asked.

“Sheridan tricked Talia into scanning Morden,” Sinclair told him.

Garibaldi's glass froze halfway to his mouth. “What?” he asked in a deadly quiet voice.

“Sheridan asked her to scan him, and she refused,” Ivanova explained, having just heard the full story from the telepath. “The Captain then decided to have them pass each other in the corridor, knowing that Talia wouldn't be able to help but pick up something from Morden.”

“Did she?” Garibaldi asked.

Ivanova nodded. “She said he wasn't just surrounded by darkness, he _was_ darkness, and there were sounds surrounding him as well, almost sentient-like.”

Sinclair knew this was true, after what he had learned from Delenn earlier. She had told him about the First Ones, beings millions of years older than either humans or Minbari. Most of them had passed beyond the rim, but a few remained, waiting until they would be needed; waiting until the Shadows would return.

It was like a terrifying bedtime story, made worse because he knew it was true. Delenn explained about the last great war and how the Shadows had been there a thousand years ago. They were defeated by the few remaining First Ones and the Minbari; all the First Ones then left, save one.

The Vorlons.

For centuries, they stood alone, watching and waiting. Then, at the end of the previous year, Delenn had asked Kosh a message, one which led to her transformation; she asked him if the Shadows had returned to Z'ha'dum.

When she had said that name, Sinclair had felt the familiar buzz of fear and fate, though he still didn't understand why.

Delenn went on to explain that it was prophecy, by Valen, that she undertake the transformation, which he excepted without question. She then told him how the Icarus had actually landed on Z'ha'dum and awoken the Shadows, who gave the crew two choices: serve or die. Morden chose to serve and because of that reason, he was never alone.

_“They are with him always,”_ Delenn had said.

Sinclair had understood perfectly; if Sheridan pushed Morden too far, the Shadows would kill them both, and possibly everyone else on the station. Delenn finished by saying that Sheridan had to release Morden, that the side of Light needed more time to prepare and the Shadows could not be allowed to know they were aware of their presence. Sinclair had agreed, then charged Delenn with sharing everything she had just told him with Sheridan because so far, no one had been able to get through to him. He only hoped that as he was sat with Ivanova and Garibaldi, Sheridan was being made to see sense.

“Are you still with us?” Ivanova asked, amused.

“Sorry.” Sinclair flexed his fingers. “My hand is just starting to get sore.”

Garibaldi looked at him. “Did you hit Sheridan?”

“Maybe.”

“Did it work?”

“No.”

“So now what?” Garibaldi asked. “We can't keep standing by and doing nothing.”

“I hope it's being taken care of,” Sinclair replied, then he turned to Ivanova. “How's Talia?”

“Shaken but she'll be okay. I said I'd call by later and check on her.”

“Good.”

Garibaldi looked at them both. “How's Stephen?”

“Not pleased with Sheridan either,” Sinclair replied. “And still working too hard. But we're moving the refugees out a little faster now, so hopefully his work load will decrease soon.”

“And you, Chief? How are you doing?” Ivanova asked.

“This vacation sucks,” he replied.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan paused outside Sinclair's quarters, wishing he was wearing his uniform instead of civilian clothes, but he didn't want to approach him as the other Captain; he wanted to talk to him informally, just as another person, maybe even a friend. He wanted to explain his actions, if that was possible, and to apologise. Taking a deep breath, he pressed the chime and waited.

_“Come,”_ a voice said moments later.

Sheridan ducked through the doorway and was pleased to see Sinclair was also not in his uniform. “I let Morden go,” he said without preamble. “When I was watching him in his cell, just for a moment, I saw his...allies.” He knew it was safe to talk about that here; he knew Sinclair knew as much as he did. “Delenn was right. We have to pretend we're ignorant as long as possible until we're ready.”

“What made you change your mind?” Sinclair asked.

“I thought I just answered that.”

“No. You told me that Delenn was right. I want to know why _you_ changed your mind. It wasn't for her.”

Sheridan sighed and sat down. “I was talking to Officer Allan, right before I heard the noises in Morden cell that led me to seeing these...Shadows. I remembered some old Earth history, from World War II. The British had cracked the ENIGMA code and learnt that the Germans planned to bomb the city of Coventry. Churchill had a terrible decision to make; save Coventry and let the Germans know they had cracked their code, or sacrifice the city in order to keep the secret.”

“He chose to sacrifice the city,” Sinclair said. “Not a choice I would want to make.”

“Me either. But in that moment I realised my situation was similar; I had to sacrifice knowing what happened to Anna for the sake of...well, all of us.” Sheridan stared off into space. “Mr Allan asked me, 'how many lives is a secret worth?' Made me wonder.”

“In this war that's coming, John, we're all going to have to make some tough decisions. The kind that make you not sleep at night. But for the greater good, they will have to be made. I can feel it in my soul.”

Sheridan nodded, trusting Sinclair's instincts. “I also spoke with Kosh. I told him that in return for letting Morden go, I want to learn how to fight and beat the Shadows. Because sooner or later, I'm going to Z'ha'dum.” He fixed the other Captain with a stare. “What do you say, Jeff? Want to join me in fighting these bastards? I could do it on my own, but I think together, we'll make them run for the hills.”

Again, Sinclair experienced that familiar feeling upon hearing the name of the Shadow homeworld, but the look in Sheridan's eyes told him the other Captain felt the same. He was also aware he had to phrase his answer carefully, but he could not lie. “I think we're fated to go,” he said, holding his hand out.

The two men shook, both feeling bad for having lied to each other anyway, but neither of them could know that Kosh had told them both the same thing; that if they go to Z'ha'dum, they will die.

“I also wanted to apologise for my behaviour over the last couple of days,” Sheridan said. “I guess I felt I was justified but I can see now I was just being irrational. I gave Garibaldi his job back. And I now I deserved the punch you gave me, but damn, Sinclair, you hit hard.”

“Good,” he replied.

Sheridan smiled and stood. “I'll see you in the morning.”

“Sheridan,” Sinclair said. “I can understand why you did what you did. But never do it again.” The younger Captain saluted, then left. “Still think hiding was a bad idea?”

The doors to his bedroom opened and Ivanova walked in, stopping behind him and putting her hands on his shoulders. “You were right,” she admitted. “Captain Sheridan would never have been so...open if I had been here.”

They had been discussing the events of the last couple of days, and Sinclair had been explaining what he had learnt from Delenn about the First Ones, the Vorlons and the Shadows, when Sheridan had arrived. Sinclair didn't know for sure who was visiting, but he had a good idea; he also had a good idea what conversation would follow and he had suggested Ivanova stay in the bedroom. She had objected, saying they were doing nothing wrong by being in each other's company; he had pointed out that wasn't what he was worried about. He wanted Sheridan to be honest with him, something Sinclair knew he wouldn't do if there was anyone else present. His hunch had paid off.

“So one day, you will go to Z'ha'dum,” Ivanova stated, moving to sit next to him.

“I don't know for sure, Susan. If there's another way....”

“You'll find it.” They were silent for a while. “Do you remember last year when we fought? I almost resigned my position, but we weren't sure _why_ we were fighting so fiercely?” she asked.

“I remember,” Sinclair said in a heavy voice.

Ivanova draped an arm across his waist and hugged him. “Out of curiosity, I checked when Mr Morden was on the station last year.”

“And?”

“And he was here at that time,” she told him. “ _And_ given what you've just told me, isn't it possible that for some reason, these Shadows were influencing us? Trying to drive us apart?”

Sinclair was silent for a moment. “It's possible,” he conceded eventually. 

“I mean...maybe...we're meant to be together, Jeff, and the Shadows don't want that, for whatever reason.”

It was a bold statement and he was aware of how much it had taken for Ivanova to say it out loud. And now she had mentioned it, it seemed to be a good hypothesis for their unusual behaviour.

“Maybe we're breaking their rules,” Sinclair suggested with a smile.

Ivanova fixed him with a very serious look. “I'm not much good at following rules anyway.”

TBC


	42. 217 Confessions and Lamentations

_November 2259_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

The atmosphere on the command deck could best be described as normal, which Ivanova decided was a very good thing. It had taken them most of the year, but the crew had finally settled down and gotten used to having two Captains on board; now, if they couldn't find one, they simply went to the other without fear of being accused of favouritism or any other such nonsense. The two Captains still disagreed, but that was just being human; generally, the running of Babylon 5 was as smooth as it was ever going to be, and Ivanova appreciated that because she knew it wouldn't last. As she looked around the command deck, she locked eyes with Sinclair and couldn't help but smile.

Okay, so maybe not everything was 'normal'. While they hadn't officially given a name to their relationship yet, it was definitely more than it had been before. More dinners alone, sometimes even by candlelight. They held hands whenever they thought they could get away with it, and if they were alone, they would greet each other with kisses. Nothing too serious, just a peck on the lips, but it was comfortable, familiar, and they were both clearly a lot happier.

Of course, the glances they kept throwing each others way were not so secretive, and they had caught Garibaldi's warnings a few times; usually a shake of his head or a cough. But he didn't seem bothered by the change in their relationship; in fact, he seemed pleased.

Ivanova turned back to her console after a reasonable amount of time spent staring at Sinclair. Sheridan was oblivious as he was busy signing for something. After he had finished, he walked up to the other Captain.

“So, Ambassador Delenn invited me for a meal,” he said calmly, quietly. “To repay the favour for the human meal we shared a few months ago”

Sinclair smiled. “That's good.”

“Have you ever...?”

“Eaten a Minbari meal? Yes,” he replied.

Sheridan pulled a face. “Of course you have. You've been to Minbar.” He was an idiot. “But with Delenn...?”

“No, I haven't,” Sinclair said. “Are you worried that this is some sort of...date?”

“No! No. No, of course not. It's just...different.” Sheridan pulled another face. “Are you going to make me beg, Sinclair?”

He laughed. “Alright, what do you want to know?”

“What to do. What not to do.”

“Firstly, did you accept?” Sinclair asked.

“Yes.”

“That means that Lennier will either spend the next two days preparing the meal, or Delenn anticipated your answer and he has been preparing it for the last two days,” Sinclair replied.

Sheridan looked surprised. “Two days?”

“There are strict sacred guidelines,” he told him seriously.

“We're having dinner tonight.”

“Then be gracious to Lennier who won't have slept for two days,” Sinclair said. “The meal itself follows a procedure which is very important to their beliefs and not to be made fun of.”

“I wouldn't....”

“I know, but for humans, we laugh and joke at mealtimes and that's acceptable. Not so for the Minbari. And don't talk about work, either.”

“That goes without saying,” Sheridan said with a smile. “What else?”

“You will be expected to set food aside for Valen,” Sinclair replied.

“Why? Will he be joining us?”

“I hope you won't be like this during the meal.”

Sheridan held his hands up. “I'll behave, I promise.”

“There will also be meditation involved. Lots of meditation.”

The younger Captain looked uncomfortable. “Meditation?”

Sinclair nodded. “Meditation. So try not to fall asleep, Sheridan.”

“Captains,” Ivanova interrupted. “We have an overdue Markhab transport ship. It was due ten hours ago.”

“Have you tried hailing them?” Sinclair asked.

“Yes, sir. Nothing.”

“Recommend we send a StarFury squadron to check it out, make sure nothing's happened,” Sheridan said.

Sinclair nodded. “I agree. Send Zeta Squadron.”

Ivanova looked around, then lowered her voice. “Actually, there might be a problem with that. I've noticed that over the last few months, Lieutenant Keffer has been putting in a lot of off-duty flying, and from the rumours I've heard in AirHarts, he's looking for something.”

“What?” Sheridan asked.

“Whatever's living in hyperspace.”

“The ship I followed to get home after rescuing the Cortez,” Sinclair said quietly.

Sheridan expression became grim. “Commander, tell Lieutenant Keffer that from now on, he is banned from off-duty flights. Do whatever you have to so he understands that, just don't tell him the truth.”

“That it's for his own good? Understood, sir,” Ivanova replied. “But he won't like it.”

“Tough.”

“No doubt you'll be engaged in your 'meeting' when we receive word on what happened to the ship,” Sinclair said. “Unless it's anything serious, I'll make sure you aren't interrupted.”

“Thanks, Sinclair, I appreciate that,” Sheridan replied. “Now I think I'll find Mr Garibaldi, see if he has anything to report.”

“Meeting?” Ivanova asked as soon as he had gone.

“Dinner with Delenn. In her quarters.”

“With meditation?”

“Most likely. They are Minbari,” Sinclair said fondly.

“Thirty credits says he falls asleep,” Ivanova said mischievously.

Sinclair just laughed. “No bet.”

“Why not?”

“Because we both know that he will.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

As Franklin prepared for the autopsy on the dead Markhab body he thought about Lazarenn's attitude. He had known the Markhab doctor for a long time, and while no professional liked to have his abilities questioned, there was something else about Lazarenn's behaviour that didn't sit well with the doctor. He wanted to trust him, he really did, but he couldn't help feeling that he was hiding something.

When the doors to med lab opened, he only briefly glanced at who was entering, then did a double take. “Captain. What brings you down here?”

“Just making the rounds before I clock off,” Sheridan said, smiling. “What are you doing?”

“I'm just about to autopsy a dead Markhab.”

“Suspicious death?” the Captain asked.

Franklin hesitated. “I'm not sure.” He turned to face Sheridan fully. “This is the fourth dead Markhab we've had in three days. Now their doctor, Lazarenn, has cited 'natural causes' for each one and frankly, I find that suspicious. But my initial examinations have confirmed that.”

“So you're conducting an autopsy to find out more,” Sheridan said.

Franklin nodded. “Lazarenn was pretty upset with me because I had to sign off on the bodies as well.”

“Did you explain to him that as chief of med lab it's your job?”

“I did, and he knows that. We've been friends for a long time. Which is why his behaviour only makes me more suspicious.”

Sheridan paced a little. “It's funny, but Ivanova just told me we have a Markhab transport that's over ten hours late. We just sent a fighter wing to check it out.”

“Let's hope it's just a coincidence,” Franklin said.

“Around here? Not likely. Check in with C&C if you find anything,” Sheridan told him before heading out of med lab.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova hesitated outside the office, reluctant to enter and share the news she had just received; she had a feeling that 'bad' would be something they would wish for after this incident. But with strict orders not to disturb Sheridan, she had no choice but to inform Sinclair. Despite his tough exterior, he was a sensitive individual and she knew this would hit him hard.

“Commander,” Sinclair said with a smile as he looked up and saw her entering the office. But the smile soon slid off his face when he saw her expression. “Did they find the ship?”

Ivanova nodded and sat opposite him. “Lieutenant Keffer just checked in, they're heading back as we speak. The ship was intact, no damage to the exterior at all, no signs of being boarded.” She took a deep breath before she delivered the next piece of information. “He reports there are two hundred lifeforms on the ship.”

“Good, then....” Sinclair stopped, realising what she had just said. “Life _forms_?” he repeated, his gut twisting in dread anticipation.

“Yes, sir. According to his instruments, all two hundred and three Markhabs on board that vessel are...dead.” Ivanova swallowed hard, 

Sinclair leant forwards. “Is he sure?”

“As sure as he can be. They didn't board the ship.”

“A good call. Alright, have Dr Franklin assemble a full medical team and have him meet us in Bay 14.”

“What about Captain Sheridan?” Ivanova asked.

“Until we know more, let's just leave him to enjoy his evening,” Sinclair replied with the ghost of a smile.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

They all sat in Sinclair's quarters in stunned silence. Despite the terrible situation they found themselves in, they had managed to set a little time aside to meet; both Captains felt it was important to have everybody informed of the same things, as far as possible.

“So let me get this straight,” Garibaldi said from his perch on the stool at the kitchen counter. “We've had four dead Markhabs here and the station, and now a whole damn ship full? And they didn't think to tell us there was a problem.”

Sinclair looked at Franklin, who was sandwiched between Sheridan and Ivanova. “Doctor,” he said softly.

“It seems it is as much a religious dilemma as a political one,” Franklin started to explain. “I knew something was wrong when Lazarenn kept putting 'natural causes' on the death certificates, and then when we brought their ship back, he tried to stop us from entering.” He shook his head. “He knew about this plague and he didn't tell me anything!”

Ivanova laid a hand on his arm. Garibaldi looked worried. “Plague? As in deadly or what?”

“According to Lazarenn, the infection is one hundred percent fatal and one hundred percent contagious,” Franklin replied.

“We've quarantined the station,” Sheridan said in a heavy voice. “No ships in, no ships out. All they know right now is that we're experiencing some technical difficulties.”

Ivanova squeezed Franklin's arm. “Tell us about this plague.”

“The Markhabs call it Drafa. It seems that the plague wiped out a sinful civilisation in the past and became a dark legend amongst the Markhabs,” Franklin began. “Lazarenn said that it was said to have been the divine punishment for immorality. They believe that if they are pure, the Drafa will not touch them.”

“That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!” Garibaldi exclaimed.

Sinclair looked at him. “Michael, please.”

“Even to talk about it is a sin, unless used to scare children into behaving properly,” Franklin continued. “The Markhabs believed that the plague was extinct, but it began to resurface recently. The families who contracted it tried to hide it from others, believing that if they remained pure, it would leave them. They carried on their lives as normal, traveling from place to place without a second thought, spreading the plague as they went. But no one spoke about it; they feared that even talking about it would make it worse. Make it real.” He paused. “Lazarenn was forbidden by his government to speak of it, even though he knew of its existence. The ship you found was one of many fleeing the Markhab homeworld in the hopes of escaping the plague. Instead they have spread it to every Markhab colony there is.”

“Is there a cure?” Sheridan asked.

“Lazarenn and a few other doctors have been trying to research the disease without the knowledge of their government, but without the proper resources, they're struggling.”

Sinclair leant forwards in his chair. “Doctor, can the plague cross to other species, or is it just contained to the Markhabs?”

Franklin's expression was haunted. “Honestly? I have no idea.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Delenn was not entirely sure who or what she was looking for, but when she found him in the Zen garden, she knew it was him. “Captain, I must speak with you.”

Sinclair turned and forced a smile. “Ambassador.”

She sat down quickly, her whole left side flushed against his right side, her body angled towards him. “I can see it in your eyes, Jeff, confirming what I fear. Something dreadful is happening on this station.”

“What do you know?” Sinclair asked quietly.

“I was passing through the Zocalo where I found a young Markhab girl who had just discovered her father. He was dead. And I have heard rumours of a Markhab ship brought to the station and all its occupants were dead,” she replied.

Sinclair knew lying to her would be pointless. “You cannot repeat what I tell you. We're trying not to create a panic, but there is a plague on the station, and probably anywhere else where there are Markhabs.”

Delenn gasped, then took both of his hands in hers, gratified when he squeezed her fingers and did not let go. “Is there anything we can do?”

“Dr Franklin is working on it as we speak. So far, only the Markhabs seem to be affect,” Sinclair told her. “But we don't know how long that will remain true.”

Gently removing one hand, Delenn laid it against his cheek. She wanted to say something, anything, to help ease the pain she could see he was suffering, but she had no words. However, she was reminded they were not necessary as Sinclair covered her hands with his and closed his eyes. And for a moment, she wasn't sure who was comforting whom.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

With Franklin in med lab and Garibaldi patrolling the station, Sinclair, Sheridan and Ivanova gathered in the office to discuss what was happening. First and foremost was research and screening the Markhabs so they could determine the spread of the disease.

“That's going to cause an uproar straight away,” Sheridan predicted. “They'll accuse us of saying they're impure.”

“Surely they have to see that we're only trying to help them,” Ivanova said. “Sooner or later.”

Sinclair shook his head. “Don't be so sure.”

“If they keep the symptoms of this disease hidden, how is Stephen going to find an early onset case of the plague to study?” Ivanova asked.

“I have no idea,” Sheridan replied wearily. “Though if it's airborne, like the doctor suggested, he might not have to look very far. Especially if it can jump species.”

“We have no evidence of that yet,” Sinclair pointed out.

“Exactly, and it's the 'yet' that worries me.”

Ivanova shook her head. “It's days like these I'm glad I don't have Garibaldi's job. Trying to keep the docking bays secured while also trying to keep the number of violent incidents against Markhabs down? He is _not_ going to be a happy camper by the time this is over.”

“I'll consider giving him a raise,” Sinclair said.

“Or a holiday,” Sheridan added.

“Damn, maybe I do want his job after all.”

Their attempts at humour were weak and they knew it, but the normality helped them to cope with the tragedy that seemed to be unfolding around them. It was terrifying how quickly the plague spread through the Markhabs, and they could only imagine how it was affecting Franklin. He was one of the foremost experts on alien biology, but this was uncharted territory even for him and if he failed to find a cure, they all knew how he would it.

The peaceful moment was shattered by Garibaldi striding in. “Franklin just linked me from Brown 17. A dead Pak'ma'ra, no signs of violence. He thinks it's the plague.”

“Which confirms that the plague is airborne and jumping species,” Ivanova stated.

“Dammit!” Sheridan exclaimed.

“We won't know for sure until Dr Franklin performs the autopsy,” Sinclair said, attempting to be the voice of reason. “So let's keep this to ourselves.”

Garibaldi didn't look convinced. “Easier said than done.”

“Why?”

He sighed heavily. “The Markhab ambassador has convinced his people that they will be safer away from the rest of us. He's moving them into isolation right now.”

Ivanova looked around the room incredulously. “How can he not know that will just kill them faster?” she asked.

“Because he's a blind, stubborn idiot!” Sheridan said angrily, jumping to his feet.

“They're just frightened, reacting the only way they know how to,” Garibaldi told him quietly.

“And what if it's wrong?”

“At the end of the day, it's their choice.”

Sinclair remained silent. He understood all their point of views, agreed with them all in their own way, but he was more concerned with the moral implications of the isolation, and he knew what he was going to have to do.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova had just finished talking to Sheridan in his quarters about the recent rise in attacks against the Markhabs when she received a message from Sinclair. It was coded, but she understood; he was in his own quarters and wanted to see her.

Despite how hectic things seemed, the Captains and herself actually had a lot of time on their hands. With no ships arriving or departing, and all diplomatic sessions and other meetings having been put on hold, their schedule was suddenly empty. And although Ivanova enjoyed spending time alone with Sinclair, she felt at least one of them should be on the command deck in case of emergencies.

He had his back to her as she entered his quarters, his jacket slung carelessly across the arm of his chair, and she knew he was about to tell her something dreadful.

Without waiting for him to speak, Ivanova walked up to him and wrapped her arms around his chest, laying her cheek against his back. Sinclair covered her hands with his and was surprised to feel dampness on his shoulder blades.

“How do you do that?” he asked, his voice rumbling deeply. “How do you always know what I'm about to say or how I'm feeling?”

“I promised I'd tell you and I will. Just not today.”

Sinclair turned around slowly, careful not to lose contact with Ivanova. “I have something to tell you. A decision I've made. And you can object all you like, I know you will. You won't be alone in that. But even if I have to resign, I'm going to do it because it's right.”

A glimpse, the briefest of flashes, and Ivanova knew. “You want to go in with the Markhabs, don't you?”

“Yes.”

“You want to offer them comfort in their final hours.”

“I do.”

“I'm coming with you.”

Sinclair had expected that, but he was still surprised by the fierce rush of pride, love, and resignation that he felt. “No, you're not. That's an order.”

“Dammit, Jeff, you can't expect me to stay out here while you're in there!” Ivanova told him frustratedly.

“Yes, I can. And you will. Someone has to keep an eye on Sheridan, make sure he doesn't mess things up too much. I don't expect you to understand fully, but I feel this is something I don't have a choice in.”

“You stubborn, idiotic, ridiculously kind...idiot!” Ivanova shouted, and started to pound her fists on his arms and chest.

It was tempting to laugh, but Sinclair knew that would be the worst idea he had ever had. Instead, he let her vent her fury at him and when she started to cry in earnest, he caught her arms gently and pulled her to him. The two of them sank to the floor entwined and he held her until she had stopped sobbing.

“They need our compassion, Susan, as much as they need our protection. Not all of them believe in the lies they have been told, but are too scared to stand against the rest of their people,” Sinclair told her. “I may be a soldier, but first and foremost I'm a human being. A sentient being, and if I don't care for all other race, then what is the point of life?”

“Promise you'll come back to me,” Ivanova said.

“Susan, no. I won't make a promise I don't know I can keep.”

She looked him square in the eye and held his face in her hands. “Promise me, Jeff. Say it or I won't let you go.”

Sinclair took a moment to study her face, committing it to memory. “I promise I'll return... _to you_.”

“Have you told Sheridan yet?”

“No.”

“He'll object.”

“Perhaps.”

“And Garibaldi will try and throw you in the brig to protect you from yourself.”

“No doubt.”

“And you'll still go ahead with it.”

“I have to.”

_“Ivanova, Sheridan. I need to see you. Now. My quarters.”_

“On my way,” Ivanova replied.

Sinclair made to stand but she stopped him, kissing him with such ferocity he thought his heart would stop. Then, without another word, she left.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan was sat staring blindly at the table, a drink in hand. He looked up when Ivanova entered, saw the look on her face and pointed to the bottle. “Help yourself.”

“Thanks.” She poured a drink and sank down next to him. “The world's gone crazy.”

“Don't I know it.”

Ivanova looked at him. “You first.”

“I just had a visit from Delenn,” Sheridan said slowly, as if speaking was difficult for him. “She asked my permission for herself and Lennier to go into isolation with the Markhabs. I told her no, but she insisted and I...I couldn't refuse her. I don't know if I'll ever see her again.”

His voice was raw with emotion, but also surprise, as though he never expected to feel strongly for another woman after Anna. Ivanova felt a kinship with him then, more than ever before, and laid her hand on his arm. “Jeff has decided the same.”

Sheridan noted the use of Sinclair's first name, noted the tone she used as well, but decided now wasn't the time to make anything of it. “You told him that was a stupid idea, right?”

“I did. He's going anyway.”

“Would it do any good for me to order Mr Garibaldi to lock him up in the brig?”

“Not really. He'd probably use sneak tactics to escape, which would only upset Mr Garibaldi, and we don't want that, do we?” Ivanova asked.

“No, we don't.” Sheridan stretched his arm across the back of the sofa after Ivanova removed her hand, close to her shoulders but not quite touching. “You didn't seem surprised about Delenn's decision.”

“And you're taking Sinclair's better than I thought you would,” she replied.

“I've noticed that when he's made his mind up about something, trying to talk him out of it is like trying to hold smoke in your hands. Besides,” Sheridan said with a sly smile, “He has to get past Garibaldi first.”

“True.”

He looked at her then, full of concern. “Are you going to be okay?”

Ivanova nodded slowly, then smiled. “About as okay as you will be.”

Sheridan smiled back and clinked his glass against hers.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Lennier hesitated outside the vault. The last remaining Markhabs were entering and he was suddenly reluctant. Delenn sensed this and smiled at him. “It is alright, Lennier. There is no shame with wanting to wait outside. I will go in alone.”

“Not alone.”

They both turned to see Sinclair walking up in civilian clothing, a bag slung over one shoulder. Delenn seemed pleased but not surprised; Lennier was surprised to find a surge of jealousy shoot through him. And despite his fear, despite knowing it was pride that was making him enter, he shook his head.

“No, I promised to stay by your side and I will,” Lennier told Delenn.

“That's a tough promise,” Sinclair remarked mildly.

Lennier glared at him and seemed ready to fight; then he remembered just who this human was and forced himself to back down. Delenn, however, took the comment as it was meant. “We follow our hearts,” she said.

“Yes, we do.”

“So it's true.”

Sinclair closed his eyes before turning. “Michael.”

“Jeff, are you insane?” Garibaldi asked. “No, wait, you've always been insane. Stupid question. But this? Seriously?”

“If you're going to try and stop me, Chief, do it.”

There was emphasis on the word 'try' that no one present missed, and for a moment, it looked like Garibaldi might take the Captain up on his challenge. Then his shoulders slumped. “No. I won't. I understand why you're doing this, I just wish I had the strength to join you.”

“You're needed out here,” Sinclair said.

“So are you.”

“You still have a Captain if things should go wrong.”

“That's not what I meant and you know it.”

Sinclair sighed. “I know. But I have to do this.”

“I know,” Garibaldi replied, stepping up to him. He held his hand out, but Sinclair grasped his forearm instead. “I'll be waiting here when you get out.” Then he turned to Delenn and Lennier and bowed formally. “Ambassador. Mr Lennier.”

Delenn smiled and bowed back. “Mr Garibaldi.”

Lennier just nodded and entered the vault first. Three Markhabs followed him. Then there was just Sinclair and Delenn. They shared a look, then took hold of each others hands as they too entered the isolation area, the door clanging shut behind them.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Talia spotted Ivanova eating alone and made a beeline for her. Normally she wouldn't have bothered, but she had heard what had happened and knew how the Commander must have been feeling. She approached the table carefully, from the front; she didn't want to give the impression she was sneaking up.

“Commander,” Talia greeted her formally. “I know you don't like to be disturbed when eating normally, but...well, I thought you could use a friend.”

Ivanova managed a weak smile. “I do. Thank you. Please, sit.”

“How are you, Susan?”

“I don't know,” she replied honestly. “This whole situation is unprecedented.”

“And the fact that Captain Sinclair is inside the isolation vault isn't helping matters,” Talia stated, then held a hand up. “I didn't read your mind, I just know that the two of you are good friends as well as colleagues.”

Good friends. If only it were just there, Ivanova mused. “Anyway, how are you? This must be a difficult time for you, such high emotion all over the station, and all the time can't be easy for you.”

Talia smiled. “True. I've actually been trying to avoid it as best I can, but when I heard about Captain Sinclair and Ambassador Delenn....well, I had to come and see for myself that you were okay.”

“Thank you, Talia, I appreciate it,” Ivanova replied. “Now, will you do me a favour?”

“Of course.”

“Go back to your quarters. I don't want you enduring any unnecessary pain just for me.”

“Yes, Commander,” Talia said, as she stood. “Though you should know...it's worth it.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

They worked tirelessly in the vault, going from Markhab to Markhab, offering food and water, blankets, or even just a shoulder to lean on and an ear to listen. Some welcomed their efforts with thanks, others shunned them, but no one blamed them when one by one, they succumbed to the plague. There was no anger, no sadness, just a quiet resignation to their fate. Sinclair found the experience extremely humbling, but managed to keep a smile on his face.

Whether it was because of the circumstances or the close quarters, he didn't know, but he found himself watching Delenn closely. He saw her comfort a young girl, the same one she had encountered in the Zocalo, as Lennier tried to find the girl's mother. And he succeeded too. Sinclair felt a surge of pride for the young Minbari and smiled warmly at him when he looked his was. Lennier's answering nod was a little stiff, Sinclair noticed, though he didn't read too much into it.

The hours passed with repetitive slowness and he could feel himself becoming numb to the situation as more Markhabs passed away. And then he saw Delenn excuse herself for a quiet corner of the vault and he followed. She kept her head held high, her walk confident, until she reached a bench. Then, with a shudder, she all but collapsed onto it. Sinclair crossed to her in three long strides, sitting next to her and pulling her to him. She leant against him gratefully, turning her face into his chest, her arms wrapping round her torso as she sobbed uncontrollably. He didn't murmur any words of comfort, just held her, a solid rock amidst a sea of despair.

“Don't even think of apologising,” Sinclair said quietly once she had calmed down.

“If you insist,” Delenn replied. There was a hint of a smile in her voice.

“I do. And you know how stubborn I can be.”

“A trait, it seems, we both share.”

Sinclair nodded. “Maybe that's why we get on so well?”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps we are both old souls, having travelled through the centuries together,” Delenn said.

“That too,” Sinclair conceded. “I know this is a stupid question but...are you okay?”

“I feel better, thank you. But I wonder....”

“What is it?”

“Could we stay like this just for a few moments more?” she asked quietly.

“Of course,” he replied, tightening his hold and placing a brief kiss to the top of her head.

The feeling of being watched became too strong for Sinclair to ignore and slowly he looked up, right into the eyes of Lennier. For a brief moment, he saw such jealousy in the young Minbari that he was stunned, but Lennier turned and fled before he could be certain of what he had seen. His behaviour baffled Sinclair; he was aware that Lennier had mixed feelings for Sheridan, given the Black Star, but Delenn had once told him that he had more respect for Sinclair than other human. Had she been wrong? Or was there something Sinclair was missing?

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan and Ivanova sat silently in the dimly lit office, both absorbed in their own thoughts but not wanting to be alone. “What was the last report from Stephen?” the Captain asked after a while, his voice hoarse from not being used.

“The Markhab doctor, Lazarenn, started to show signs of the the plague, allowing Stephen to monitor it closely. The data was significant, especially given Lazarenn's ability to voice his symptoms in medical terms,” Ivanova replied. “Garibaldi checked in with him a few hours ago, just as they got the autopsy results back on the dead Pak'ma'ra. It was the plague. Michael said Stephen was upset with his staff, who were all on the verge of panicking, but like the doctor said, why the Pak'ma'ra and not another race?” She smiled faintly. “He then threw Mr Garibaldi out of med lab and told him not to come back until it was an emergency, that when he had any news, he would let us know.”

“Did Michael say how he was doing?” Sheridan asked cautiously.

Ivanova sighed. “Surviving on stims.”

“Let's hope it doesn't become a problem.”

“I don't think it will. He isn't that foolish.”

Sheridan nodded. “And how is Mr Garibaldi doing?”

“He's standing guard outside the vault,” Ivanova replied.

“Stopping others from going in?” Sheridan asked, surprised.

She shook her head. “Waiting for Captain Sinclair to come out.”

“Which leads me to....”

“I'm as fine as you are.”

Sheridan was silent again, searching for the right words to bridge a topic he had been meaning to discuss for a while but could never find the right way to do so. “Susan, there's something I've been wanting to ask you,” he started off slowly. “Well, talk to you about, actually....”

_“Franklin to Sheridan!”_

There was tired excitement in the doctor's voice and both officers leant forwards. “Sheridan, go.”

_“I've found the link between the Markhabs and the Pak'ma'ra, Captain,”_ Franklin told him. _“I've found what's causing the plague!”_

“Can you make a cure?”

_“Yes.”_

“Do it. We're on our way.”

Ivanova looked overwhelmed. “I just hope we're in time.”

“So do I,” Sheridan said, grabbing his jacket.

“What did you want to talk about?”

He studied her and shook his head, deciding now wasn't the right time after all. “It can wait. Let's go.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Any word?” Sheridan asked as they approached the vault.

Garibaldi shook his head, his mouth drawn in a tight line, his expression worried. “No. We've been knocking since you told us the news, but so far, no reply.”

There was a grave silence as everyone present contemplated what that meant. Finally, Sheridan drew himself up to his full height, squared his shoulders, and took a deep breath. “Open the door,” he ordered.

Beside him, Ivanova steeled herself similarly. Though Franklin had assured them that the plague was limited to those species with similar blood cells to the Markhabs and the Pak'ma'ra, she wouldn't be happy until she saw Sinclair, and Delenn, alive, and she knew Sheridan felt the same way. Even the normally stoic Garibaldi was showing his fear.

Slowly, a security officer turned the handle and swung the big door of the vault open. The first thing that hit them was the stench of decay and they all huddled in the entrance, waiting until their eyes adjusted to the dimness. Then they saw them.

Scores of bodies on the floor, some sat up, but none were moving. It was a macabre scene, and one no one present would forget. Then, through the haze, they saw movement. Sinclair emerged, Delenn leaning heavily on him, Lennier behind them.

“Is there anyone left?” Franklin asked in a hushed voice.

Sinclair shook his head. “No.”

Ivanova was shocked, not just by his appearance, but by the haunted look in his eyes, and his voice sounded as though it belonged to a stranger. She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and quickly put her hand on Franklin's arm, noticing that at the other side of him, Sheridan had done the same to stop him from throwing the tray of antidote he carried in frustration. Sheridan took the tray from him and handed it to a security guard.

“Take this back to med lab,” he ordered. “We might still need it.”

Garibaldi stepped forward to help. Between him and Franklin, they led a reluctant Lennier from the vault, sensing that the others needed some privacy. Delenn didn't wait until they were alone; she went straight up to Sheridan and cradled his face shakily.

“John,” she whispered before breaking down and falling against her chest.

Sinclair watched saw how unsure Sheridan was, but he didn't hesitate too long before pulling her to him for a moment. Then he put an arm around her waist, took her hand in his other, and gently led her from the vault. He stopped in the doorway and turned to see if Sinclair and Ivanova were behind them. As he watched, he saw Ivanova put one hand flat against Sinclair's cheek and plant a soft kiss against the other, while Sinclair leant forward, eyes closed, and kissed her forehead. Sheridan had the feeling he was intruding on a very private moment and so left without another word.

Sinclair and Ivanova were unaware of the others leaving, and if the truth was told, they didn't care. His lips moved quickly from her forehead and down to her mouth, and she replied hungrily.

“Susan,” he breathed.

“I'm here, Jeff. I'm here,” she replied. She didn't tell him everything would be okay when they both knew it wouldn't be. Instead they just took comfort that, for the moment at least, they had each other.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Instead of taking him to med lab, which would probably have been the best idea, Ivanova led Sinclair to her quarters. She ordered up some food and made him drink plenty before directing him to the shower, and while he was cleaning up, she went to his quarters for some clothes. When she came back, she found him sat on the edge of her bed wearing nothing but a towel. Normally such an image would have had her imagination running wile, and given the progression of their relationship, she wasn't sure she would have been able to contain herself. But today that wasn't a problem; today he looked so vulnerable that she put the clothes on a chair, walked over to him and put her arm around his shoulders.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked quietly.

“No,” he replied.

Ivanova nodded in understanding. “Do you want to get dressed? Food will be here soon.”

“No.”

She bit her lip, well aware her next suggestion could be the worst she'd ever made but knowing in her soul it could work wonders. “Alright, how about this? Replace the towel with something less...tempting, and get into bed.” She took a deep breath. “Give me five minutes and I'll join you.”

Surprisingly, Sinclair offered no resistance. He didn't make any quips or comments, just nodded. “Alright.”

Ivanova found some clothes she could sleep in that weren't a short nightdress and disappeared into the bathroom. When she came out ten minutes later, Sinclair was under the covers, dressed in a T-shirt and she guessed sweatpants. He was on the left side of the bed and she had to climb over him.

“I noticed you slept on that side before,” Ivanova said as she settled down. “Any particular reason?”

Sinclair nodded. “To protect you.”

“Excuse me?”

“This side is closer to the door. If someone comes in, they'd reach me first.”

Ivanova trust herself to speak. Instead, she closed the distance between them and laid her head and hand on his chest. There was something she wanted to say to him; it seemed like the perfect time. Yet she didn't. Sinclair, however, seemed to sense it and pulled her closer.

“How do you do that?” she asked. “Know exactly what I'm feeling or thinking.” Her words echoed what he had said earlier.

A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. “I just do.”

TBC


	43. 218 Divided Loyalties

_November 2259_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan was bouncing and practically humming as he entered the office. Sinclair looked up briefly from the paperwork he was completing; as he dropped his eyes again, he asked, “How is Ambassador Delenn this morning?” in a casual tone.

“Oh, just fine. I ran into her at the Universe Today kiosk. Seems she's started to get a newspaper after that incident with the ISN crew a couple of months ago,” Sheridan replied, oblivious to Sinclair's smirking face. “It's funny because she get the Eye on Minbari section, apparently to gain information she....” He stopped suddenly.

Sinclair looked up, his expression innocent. “Yes?”

“How did you know?”

“You have a spring in your step and a gleam in your eye whenever you've spoken to Delenn, more so lately. It's good.”

“She's an incredible woman,” Sheridan admitted.

Sinclair nodded. “I know. Which reminds me, how did the Minbari meal go? I've been meaning to ask, but...well, we were busy.” The annihilation of the Markhab race was still fresh in his memory and he avoided talking or thinking about it, for the time being at least.

“It was...different.”

“Is that it?”

“It was enjoyable in its own way. A little more ceremony than I'm used to.” He sighed. “I fell asleep,” he admitted.

Sinclair carefully kept his expression neutral; Sheridan didn't need to know that Delenn had already told him what happened while they were in the isolation vault with the Markhabs. “Did you apologise?”

“Profusely. I don't think Lennier was very happy, though.”

“Would you be, if you had spent two days preparing a meal?” Sinclair asked with a smile.

Sheridan ignored him. “So I saw Ivanova and Ms Winters enjoying lunch together just now.”

“Good.”

“I'm surprised to see Ivanova treating a telepath so amicably.”

“Perhaps she sees the person and not the uniform and the labels Talia is given,” Sinclair suggested.

Their eyes locked, and while Sheridan was certain the other Captain was talking about more than just Ivanova and Talia, he couldn't help but feel he was still missing something. “Well, I'd call that progress,” he said eventually.

“So would I.”

“So...how are you doing?” Sheridan asked carefully.

Sinclair's expression shuttered a little, but he allowed some emotion to show. “I'm fine. Just needs time, that's all,” he added.

Ivanova walked in then. “Sirs, we may have a problem.”

“Big surprise,” Sheridan said sarcastically.

Sinclair rolled his eyes at him. “What is it, Commander?”

“A ship just came through the jumpgate, but didn't move any further than that. It didn't answer our hails and I had to have it towed to a hangar,” Ivanova explained. “Mr Garibaldi and Dr Franklin found a single unconscious person on board.”

“Well, who is it? Don't keep us in suspense, Commander,” Sheridan said impatiently.

Ivanova's eyes never left Sinclair's face. “It's Lyta Alexander.”

The older Captain's eyes widened in surprise; the younger Captain just looked confused. “Who?”

“How is she?” Sinclair asked, ignoring Sheridan.

“Stable. In med lab, recovering. She looks like she's been through hell,” Ivanova replied.

“But the Corps....”

“Mr Garibaldi seems to think she isn't with the Corps any more.”

Sheridan looked from one to the other. “Are we talking about Psi Corps here?”

Sinclair finally acknowledged him. “I'll explain everything in a minute.” He turned back to Ivanova. “Tell Mr Garibaldi to post a security guard at med lab. If what you've said is true, then it's a reasonable assumption she's running from someone. It's our job to protect her.”

Sheridan noted a faintly surprised expression on Ivanova's face before she nodded and turned to leave the room. “Lyta Alexander,” he muttered to himself. “The name's familiar.”

“She was the first commercial telepath assigned to Babylon 5,” Sinclair explained. “When Ambassador Kosh arrived, he was attacked by a Minbari assassin wearing a changeling net. Lyta was forced to scan Kosh; as a result, she _thought_ she saw me poison him.”

“But it was the Minbari.”

He nodded. “Of course, to a telepath, what they see in a person's mind is real. She took some convincing I wasn't responsible.” He smiled. “One of the many times my career was almost destroyed.”

“And you want to protect her?” Sheridan asked, surprised.

“It wasn't her fault,” Sinclair replied in exasperation. “Anyway, if she isn't with Psi Corps any more, she may very well need our help.”

Sheridan made a non-committal noise. “Maybe the ship she came in on might contain something,” he said, walking away.

“Garibaldi will let us know if he finds anything.” Sinclair joined him and the two walked to C&C. As they approached, they were surprised to see Ivanova pacing outside the door.

“Captain, may I have a word?” she asked, looking at Sinclair. Sheridan carried onto the observation deck, leaving them to talk.

“Are you going to ask why I want to protect Lyta as well?”

Ivanova stared at him. “No. I understand the reasons perfectly. Actually, this is more...personal. Slightly less serious than 'end of the world'.”

Sinclair smiled. “That's a nice change. What is it?”

“Ms Winters is having some difficulty with her quarters, some repair work that needs to be done, and so I offered to borrow the spare cot from Dr Franklin so she could sleep in my quarters rather than find somewhere in Brown Sector,” Ivanova explained.

“That's a very generous offer,” Sinclair said, his smile holding. He was pleased with her progress, but he would have been lying if the thought of not seeing her for a few nights didn't hurt him. Since the incident with the Markhabs, she had stayed with him, helping him sleep peacefully. And although they could have taken things further, they hadn't; if anyone had asked, Sinclair could have told them truthfully that they hadn't broken any regulations.

Yet.

“Will you be okay?” Ivanova asked quietly.

His smile never faltered. “I'll be fine.” Then, before she could probe his answer, he continued. “Do you remember when Sheridan had a meal with Delenn?”

“Of course.” She looked at him. “He fell asleep, didn't he?”

Sinclair nodded. “I'm glad I didn't make that bet with you.”

Sheridan chose that moment to come back out, his expression grim. “Franklin just checked in. Ms Alexander's awake and pretty stressed out,” he told them. “She says that there's a traitor amongst us, and that she doesn't want to be alone with any one of us. But she wants to talk to us.” He held Sinclair's gaze. “Dr Franklin and Mr Garibaldi, along with a full security escort, are on their way up here now.”

“Did Garibaldi find anything on the ship?” Sinclair asked.

“Not that I've heard.”

“Well, this should be fun,” Ivanova said sarcastically as they headed back to the office.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“You know, you should have a bench made just for you.”

Sinclair turned and smiled at Garibaldi. “I thought this was mine.”

“You'd have thought so, the amount of time you spend sat on it,” his friend replied, joining him in the Zen garden. “So what do you make of all this?”

“You mean, do I think that there's a latent, unconscious personality embedded in someone on this station, and that personality is transmitting important information back to unknown parties?” Sinclair asked. “I'm not sure.”

“It seems a little far out there, yet I checked out Lyta's story, about leaving Psi Corps and joining a group on Mars, and as far as I can tell, she's telling the truth,” Garibaldi admitted. “How do you feel about this, Jeff?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“She almost killed your career, not to mention getting you killed as well.”

Sinclair turned to face his friend. “And if Leona Kemmer hadn't believed you about Cutter being part of Homeguard, and locked you up for the rest of your life, how would you feel about her?”

Garibaldi conceded defeat. “I would have forgiven her because she was doing her job. Doing what she thought was right. Okay, I won't mention it again. And for the record, I think she's okay.”

“So do I.”

“But she doesn't trust us.”

“If what she says is true, would you?” Sinclair asked. “I mean, it could be any one of us and we wouldn't know.”

“I know.” Garibaldi shook his head. “You know something, Jeff? Not much scares me. But this does.”

“Join the club.”

“Are you going to let her send the password telepathically to us?” Garibaldi asked after a while.

Sinclair sighed. “I don't know. I'd be willing to go along with it because if she's right, then everything we're trying to do here could be at risk. But....”

“It depends who it turns out to be. What if it's me?”

“Then it was nice knowing you.”

“Ouch. Ivanova?”

Sinclair frowned. “Next question.”

“That's what I thought. Sheridan?” Garibaldi asked, then shook his head. “Never mind, I already know the answer to that.”

“What do you think we should do?”

“I agree with you. If there's a mole, we need to know. At the same time, she's a telepath and we both know how we feel about those. Sheridan doesn't seem sold at all, though,” Garibaldi said.

“He doesn't trust her,” Sinclair replied.

Garibaldi nodded. “And Ivanova?”

He sighed. “She won't even consider the possibility, and she won't even talk about it. I know she has trust issues with the Corps and telepaths in general, but this seems different.”

“Let's hope she shares before it becomes a problem.” He stood. “I'm going to have Lyta moved from the interrogation room to a cell later so she can get some rest. She's been holed up in there for hours now, she must be tired.”

“Good thinking, Chief,” Sinclair approved.

“You going to talk to Ivanova?” he asked.

“Maybe not tonight. Talia's staying with her. Probably a good idea not to interfere.”

Garibaldi didn't look surprised, just nodded. “Try to get some rest as well, Captain.”

“Easier said than done.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova lay in the dark, wide awake. She wouldn't have thought having someone else in her quarters would have bothered her, not now, but knowing it was because it wasn't Sinclair. Talia had been amicable, but there was something off about her behaviour. She recalled earlier that day, when she had made the offer to the telepath to stay at hers; Talia had seemed surprised and pleased until Ivanova mentioned a spare cot. Then the telepath almost seemed disappointed, though she couldn't understand why. Turning onto her side, she tried to get some sleep. It was impossible.

She had no idea how the Captains would decide to proceed. She knew Sinclair's thoughts on telepaths, she knew he wouldn't want anyone else messing with his head. But at the same time, he was grounded enough to realise the importance of the situation, if Lyta was telling the truth. Sheridan, however, was an enigma; for some reason, he didn't like the telepath, didn't trust her, and Ivanova found that surprising. He hadn't said anything to support that, it was just a feeling she had, and his behaviour around her.

Ivanova sighed and threw back the covers. Checking that Talia was definitely asleep, she slipped from her quarters, walking hurriedly down the corridors, not wanting to be spotted by anyone. She knew it was late, hoped he would be sleeping, but she had to see him.

It was time to tell him the truth.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

In his quarters, Sinclair was lay on his back in the dark, staring at the ceiling. He hadn't realised how dependent he had become on Ivanova's company until she wasn't there. Thought perhaps it was for the best that they were separated that night; tensions had been running high all day and no decision had been reached regarding Lyta and her information. Sinclair had the feeling that if he and Ivanova had been together that evening, they would have done nothing but fight. And it was good for her to have different company with Talia.

So when the chimes sounded, he was instantly alert and suspicious. Throwing back the covers, he padded to the living. “Who is it?”

“ _Me. We need to talk.”_

“Open.”

He had seen Ivanova in many states, but this one was new. She was clearly distressed, and not properly dressed either; it reminded Sinclair of when he and Sheridan had dragged the others from their beds and told them about General Hague's plan to prove the President Santiago had been murdered.

He wanted to go to her but something told him to stay where he was. “Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

Ivanova shook her head. “There's something I have to tell you. It's why I won't let Lyta scan me or probe me or whatever the hell is it she says she has to do to prove we're loyal.”

“She isn't...,” Sinclair started, but Ivanova interrupted.

“Please, let me finish. It's the reason that with you especially, I can tell what you're feeling more than what you're actually thinking.” She took a deep breath. “You know about my mother, how she would enter my mind when I was a child.” He nodded. “What I never told you – what I've never told _anyone_ is that sometimes, I would touch her mind. I could keep her out if I wanted to as well. Jeff...I'm a latent telepath.”

Sinclair stared, shocked, but somehow forced himself into movement as he knew his hesitation could be perceived as disgust. Wrapping her carefully in his arms, he kissed the top of her head. “I know why you didn't tell me, I just wish that you had sooner,” he told her. It all made sense to him now; the closer they became, the easier it was for her to read his emotions and thoughts.

“My mother drilled it into me from the moment we learnt the truth: don't tell anyone,” Ivanova said. “I can sense strong emotion, I know when someone is scanning me and I can block casual probes. I'm probably not even a P1! But that's enough for the Psi Corps to pull you in!”

He held her tighter. “That's not going to happen,” he promised her.

“How do you know? Lyta says she isn't with the Corps any more but how do we know that's true?”

“Garibaldi trusts her.”

“Garibaldi doesn't trust anyone,” Ivanova said.

Sinclair smiled. “Exactly. And for what it's worth, I believe her as well.”

“She's been wrong before,” Ivanova pointed out.

“Technically, based on what she saw, she was right. And we've all been wrong at one time or another.”

“I hate it when you get all reasonable,” she grumbled.

He laughed. “Susan, I'm not going to pretend I understand just how difficult this is for you, but you know my feelings on anyone messing with my brain. But if Lyta is right....”

“I know, I know.”

“You know, Michael suggested earlier that we bring Talia into our little circle,” Sinclair said, seeking to change the subject.

“I don't know. She's still Psi Corps, and if they are as strongly linked to Clark as we think they are, it could be a bad idea,” Ivanova pointed out. “On the other hand, she has shown a change in her attitude towards the Corps lately.”

“Did you talk with her about Lyta?”

Ivanova pulled a face, glad he couldn't see her; she was still pressed against his chest. “Are you sure you're not telepathic? I just asked her if she knew her. They're about the same age, so I'm guessing they were at the academy at the same time. Talia says she does know Lyta from that time but hasn't seen or spoken to her since then.”

Sinclair finally moved away, but kept hold of her shoulders. “Susan, I need you to trust me on this more than you've ever trusted me before. Whatever decision I make, I make for the greater good. I can't let my personal feelings get in the way; not for you, not even for me. If I believe what Lyta is saying is true, I will give her permission to send the password. Even if Sheridan objects, I will still agree.”

Ivanova swallowed hard. “I do trust you, Jeff.” She took a breath. “Whatever decision you make, I will abide by it...for you.”

“Thank you,” he said, and kissed her. “Now, you should go back to bed before you're missed.

“And you should get some sleep,” she countered.

“And Susan...thank you for sharing your secret with me.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Despite Sinclair's restlessness, after Ivanova's visit he feel into a deep sleep, managing to completely ignore two alarms and three urgent calls from Sheridan. When he finally woke up and made it to the office, the younger Captain was in full voice, solidly berating both Ivanova and Garibaldi for what had happened last night. Sinclair walked across the room and situated himself between Sheridan and the other two officers, his hands in his pockets.

“Well, look who finally decided to join us,” the younger Captain said sarcastically.

Sinclair just ignored him. “Do you want to stop wasting time and just catch me up on what I missed?”

“Last night, while Ms Alexander was being escorted to a cell to get some sleep, the light in the corridor cut out. An unknown attacker shot and killed both of her guards,” Sheridan explained, his frustration and anger close to the surface.

“And Lyta?” Sinclair asked.

“Looks like she got away, though whether it was unharmed or not, we don't know.” Sheridan calmed down and backed off a little, starting to pace. “You know, I wasn't convinced she was telling the truth. Can't see I believed her story at all. But given this development, I'm seriously considering accepting her proposal.”

Before he could say anything else, Sinclair interrupted. “Good, because I was thinking the same thing.”

Garibaldi's eyes widened and he looked at Ivanova next to him, waiting for her to object. She paled and her mouth was set in a grim line, but she stayed quiet. Even Sheridan was surprised, but he nodded. “Good. Now we just need to find her.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Delenn pulled the hood further over her face, knowing that if Lennier knew she was down here alone, he would be very displeased with her. Although the same could probably be said of Sheridan. And Sinclair. And Ivanova. Delenn smiled. It was nice to be cared for by so many different people.

She sensed someone coming up behind her and turned quickly, coming face to face with Lyta. “Are you alone?”

“Of course,” Delenn replied.

“Thank you, Ambassador, for agreeing to see me,” Lyta said.

Delenn pushed her hood back a little. “There is no need for 'ambassador', Lyta.”

The telepath smiled grimly. “You're the only person I can trust in all this.

“You can trust Captain Sinclair.”

“No, I can't.” Lyta briefly explained why she was on the station. “So you see, it could be anyone.”

Delenn's expression became sad. “It cannot be Jeffrey Sinclair.”

“Delenn, I know he's your friend, but....”

“It is more than that.” The Minbari woman sighed, her expression turning pained. “I will tell you how I know he is not the one you are looking for, then you will have two people you can trust.” Without embellishment, she told Lyta how they captured and tortured Sinclair at the Battle of the Line, and about the tests they ran on him, including telepathic probes before wiping his mind. “If there had been any interference with his mind from a human telepath, we would have sensed it. There was none.”

Lyta didn't look completely convinced. “I don't know....”

“Scan me,” Delenn offered. “Look at my memory of those events. But...I ask you not to look any further back than that battle.”

“Alright.” Seconds later, Lyta closed her eyes. “I believe you. And I will trust him, though I'm not sure he trusts me after what happened when Ambassador Kosh arrived.”

“He does not hold that against you,” Delenn assured you. He will treat you fairly.”

“I'll still have to send the password,” Lyta said. “Even if it's only to convince the others.”

“I understand. Are you ready?”

“As I'll ever be.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair didn't want to consider the possibility that was staring him in the face. Although Lyta had said the sleeper could be anyone and the person wouldn't know it was them, he couldn't help the feeling in his gut eating away at him like acid. Ivanova had been out and about last night; had she gone straight back to her quarters after seeing him? Lyta had also said that the sleeper personality would do anything to protect itself; was the story of Ivanova being a latent telepath true?

“Get a grip, Jeff,” he muttered to himself firmly. Whatever was going on and whoever was behind it, this was just what they wanted. Fear and mistrust, turning one person against another. He trusted Ivanova, end of story. He knew she could no more be a sleeper agent than he was.

“Thinking about it won't find her any quicker.”

He turned to see the person he couldn't stop thinking about stood in front of him. “I know. It's just this whole situation...it's crazy-making.”

“You need to stop spending time with Mr Garibaldi,” Ivanova said as she sat down.

“Probably.” Sinclair looked at her. “I know you want to keep things to yourself, but...what you told recently...I think you should tell Sheridan as well. Hear me out,” he said before she could interrupt. “What's happening right now could tear us all apart with mistrust if we're not careful. We can't allow that, not now. So, if you trust him, tell him.”

Sheridan chose that moment to walk into the office, but he stopped dead when he realised that Sinclair and Ivanova had stopped talking and were looking at him. “Should my ears be burning?”

The older Captain looked at the Commander. “Sir, I need to talk with you.”

“If this is about our decision....”

“John, hear her out,” Sinclair told him.

Sheridan stared at him, then looked back to Ivanova, his expression softening. “Alright, but make it quick. I just heard from Delenn. Lyta has made contact with her and wants to meet us, all of us, to get this over with. They're on their way now.”

Sinclair stood. “We have time. I'll wait outside.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ten minutes later, the senior staff were once again gathered in the office. Sheridan gave Sinclair a nod of understanding when he walked in, and he replied with a grateful smile. If there was one thing they could always agree on, it was the welfare of their officers, Ivanova especially. Two minutes after that, Delenn appeared in the doorway. Seeing them all gathering, she turned and Lyta appeared.

“Do you wish me to stay?”

Lyta smiled and laid a hand on the Minbari woman's arm. “No, thank you. I'll be fine.” Then she turned to the others. “Are we going to do this?”

Sinclair stepped forwards. “We are. I'll go first.”

Lyta drew a deep breath and sent the password. It was difficult, just as Delenn had warned her; the Minbari telepaths had been very thorough in their work. But she was able to get through without a problem, though she couldn't help but pick up on the memories of his torture from his point of view. It wasn't pretty, but her respect for him grew.

“Lyta?” Sinclair said in a concerned voice. “I said I'd go first.”

She smiled at him. “I've sent the password, you're clean.”

“That's it?” Garibaldi exclaimed.

“You'll see a definite reaction from whoever it is,” Lyta told them. “The problem is, once the password has been sent, the implanted personality takes over, completely erasing the current one.”

“So whoever it is will cease to exist as we know them?” Sheridan asked.

“Yes.”

He took a breath. “I'll go next.”

“You're clean,” Lyta said seconds later, then she looked at Ivanova. “Commander?”

“Let's hold off on Ivanova...for now,” Sheridan said before Sinclair could speak up.

That comment gained some suspicious looks, but no one pursued it. Franklin went next. Then Garibaldi. The security chief looked at Sinclair first, then handed his PPG to Sheridan. “If it turns out it's me, I don't want you to have to shoot me,” he told his own friend.

Sinclair took the PPG from Sheridan. “Michael, I'm the _only_ person who's allowed to shoot you.”

As Lyta sent the password, Garibaldi's face began to contort and he started to shudder. Ivanova looked on in horror, not wanting to believe it was him. He covered his face with his hands and then....

“Peekaboo!”

Sheridan looked ready to slug him, and Sinclair was actually seriously considering shooting him. “Michael...,” he growled warningly.

Garibaldi had the good grace to look sheepish. “Sorry, couldn't help myself.”

Sheridan turned to Lyta. “Alright, now what?”

“Now we go through the chain of command,” she replied

The process was long and tedious for everyone involved. Sheridan and Sinclair took turns in talking to the crew members who were all called into the office for some reason or other. Each time, Lyta shook her head. After a few hours, Sinclair called a break.

“We can't keep going on like this,” he said.

“We still have all the maintenance and guild workers to go through, not to mention environmental staff,” Garibaldi pointed out.

Lyta shook her head. “The sleeper would be someone close to the top. That's where they'd gain the most information. The further away from you all that we go, the less likely we'll find them.”

“If they're here at all,” Garibaldi said.

“I suggest you move those eyes elsewhere if you want to keep them,” Ivanova snapped without turning, knowing that Lyta had been staring at her. 

Franklin looked shocked. “Ivanova!”

“I know what she's implying.”

“Well, you're doing a good job of avoiding this,” Lyta pointed out reasonably.

Sheridan made to interfere, but Sinclair held him back with a shake of his head. Then he walked up to Ivanova and looked at her. “Susan, please,” he said quietly, so only she could hear him.

“Alright, I'll do it.”

Lyta focused, then turned her head, blinking. “You're blocking me,” she murmured, shocked.

Sinclair slipped his hand into Ivanova's, not caring who was watching. “Relax. You can do this. I'm here,” he whispered.

Lyta tried again, pushed harder this time, and eventually, she got through. “You're clean. I'm sorry,” she said in a genuinely sympathetic voice.

Ivanova glared at her. “Go to hell.”

Before anyone could react to her angry statement, Talia walked in, oblivious to what she was interrupting. “Captain Sheridan, I was wondering if I could....”

Without thinking about it, Lyta sent the password to Talia.

And all hell broke loose.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

The mood in Sheridan's quarters was sombre at best. “I still can't believe it,” Garibaldi said, shaking his head. “I mean, what if we had decided to take her into this circle?”

“We'd be facing a court marshal right about now,” Franklin replied dryly.

“What if Lyta hadn't made it here?” Garibaldi continued, ignoring him.

“We'd be facing a court martial right now.”

“But we're not,” Sheridan stated. “And we're in a stalemate with the Psi Corps now. We don't want them to leak our secrets but they don't want us to tell everyone about their sleeper program. So now it becomes a waiting game.”

Garibaldi turned to Sinclair, who had remained silent throughout. “Where's Ivanova?”

“Processing,” he replied shortly.

“What if they decide to call our bluff?” Franklin asked. “What if Psi Corps decide that we have more to lose than they do?”

A memory from a long time ago – or so it seemed – came back to Garibaldi. “I might have a lead on that,” he said, looking at Sinclair.

The Captain seemed to rise somewhat from his stupor. “Deathwalker,” he stated, and the Chief nodded.

Sheridan turned to Franklin. “I feel like I'm missing something here.”

“Welcome to my world,” he replied dryly.

“Look, it's been a long day for everyone. I suggest we all try to get some rest,” Sheridan suggested.

“Fancy a nightcap?” Garibaldi asked Franklin.

The doctor looked at him. “As long as that's all you're after.”

“Depends how nicely you play, Doc,” he replied cheekily.

Sinclair was so absorbed in his silent musings that he didn't notice them leaving. Sheridan watched him for a while, wondering how best to tackle the problem. While it was true they were closer than they had been, he still couldn't call them friends, though he would like to be. He knew Sinclair was an intensely private man and wouldn't open up to just anybody, but Sheridan felt that if he didn't at least try to help him, he would be less of a human being; the Markhab incident had taught him a lot in the way of empathy and compassion.

“What's on your mind, Jeff? This isn't just about Talia, is it?” he asked softly, not wanting to startle the other man too much.

Sinclair slowly focused on Sheridan, surprised at how close he was to him. “What?”

“You have a lot on your mind and it isn't just about Talia. Want to talk about it?”

He flexed his jaw muscles a few times, contemplating what to say. “We came so close to losing it all, didn't we?”

Sheridan knew that wasn't what was bothering him, but it was as good a place to start as any. “Yes, we did. But thanks to Lyta, we didn't.”

Sinclair sat back and stretched. “But we could have done.”

“Is that what you're worrying about so much? What might be?” Sheridan asked curiously.

“I don't know.” Sinclair passed a hand wearily over his face. “I just don't know.”

“I could order you to tell me what's wrong,” Sheridan said after a few moments silence.

Sinclair eyed him with amusement. “We hold the same rank, Captain.”

“So? Ivanova's only a Commander and she can order us about,” he told him with a smile. Then something in his mind clicked. “This is to do with Ivanova, isn't it.”

“You know why she was so adamant against being scanned,” Sinclair said.

Sheridan nodded. “Latent telepath. Not something you find out every day.”

“Talia was the first telepath she ever really trusted and now....”

“It wasn't her fault.”

“Try telling that to Ivanova.”

“I – Oh. You already tried,” Sheridan guessed.

Sinclair nodded. “Before coming here. We had a...discussion.”

“You mean an argument?”

“No, I mean a discussion. She wanted to see Talia before she...left, to see if there was anything of the Talia we knew left. I told her she was lost to us, and that she should see Lyta instead, try to make amends with her.”

“And I'm guessing she didn't take that too well,” Sheridan said.

“Not really.” Try as he might, Sinclair couldn't block out the angry words Ivanova had hurled at him, though he understood it was just grief and shock talking.

Sheridan realised that now was the right time to bridge a subject that had been on his mind. Or at least start to. “It's difficult when you care so much about someone.”

Sinclair's expression became guarded. “We all care for each other....”

“You're closer to Susan than anyone else,” Sheridan cut across him. “And while I know you won't break the regs, I know you care for her a lot more than you're supposed to. Now, the way I see it, you're not doing anyone any harm and to be honest, right now, we have a lot more important things to focus on. Later....” He shrugged. “Well, maybe you'll have to deal with it. But that's in the future. Right now is what matters. Don't let this fester and don't give her the chance to pretend it never happened or push you away. I couldn't deal with both of you moping around. Go and talk to her. Now.”

Amusement laced Sinclair's voice. “Is that an order?”

Sheridan nodded. “Abso-fraggin-lutely.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova paused outside the door. She didn't know why she was there really. She had listened to Sinclair, understood everything he said to her, even agreed with it. But she felt the need to lash out at someone and lash out she had. She registered the flash of pain in his features, but still she had pushed him away. It was a natural reaction, even now, but it was the last thing she wanted; her limited telepathic ability and closeness to Sinclair had allowed her to sense him shutting himself off from her, a reaction to her pushing him away in the first place. And so Ivanova had walked away, walked until she reached _her_. She didn't know if it was the right decision or not, but she was there now, and her finger was pressing the intercom button of its own accord.

Lyta stared in surprise at the woman at her door. “Commander.”

“May I come in?”

“Sure,” she replied after a brief hesitation.

“Mr Garibaldi said you were leaving.”

“It's too dangerous for me to be here right now, especially with everything else that's going on,” Lyta said with a smile.

But Ivanova's expression was cold. “Everything else?”

Lyta sighed and looked around. “Would you like a drink? I think there's some coffee around here somewhere. At least I hope there is,” she added quietly.

Ivanova's gut reaction was to say no, but Sinclair's words were haunting her. _We should be thanking her_. “Alright.” If the telepath was surprised, she hid it well. “Where will you go?” the Commander asked.

Lyta shrugged as she moved about in the small kitchen. “I'm not sure. Out of Earth-controlled space, that's for sure. Other races are always willing to pay for a good telepath.”

“Isn't it strange making contact with alien minds?” Ivanova asked, remembering Alisa. But that was also the start of her and Talia's friendship and so she pushed those thoughts far from her mind. She swallowed hard and looked up to find Lyta staring at her intently.

“I'm not trying to read your thoughts,” she said quickly.

But Ivanova just nodded. “I know. I...I can tell.”

“I won't tell anyone, you know.” Lyta passed a cup across the table before sitting down herself. “It was...difficult for me, almost painful, to scan you. Your defences are pretty impressive, I've never come across blocks like that before in a...well, a normal person. Or a latent telepath. Not that I've come across many of those. I'm sorry that I had to do that. I know it wasn't easy for you either.”

“Captain Sinclair trusts you.”

“And you value his opinion greatly.”

“Yes.”

Lyta held her cup in both hands and stared into the dark liquid. “Can we be frank with each other?” she asked, looking just in time to see Ivanova nod once. “Then answer me this: are you here for you or for him?”

Ivanova's famous temper bubbled to the surface immediately, but she fought to keep it in check. She wasn't really angry at Lyta, but over the situation which none of them, not even Talia, had any control over. “Both,” she admitted.

Some of the tension ebbed from the telepath's shoulders and she breathed out noisily. “Thank you for being honest.”

“Captain Sinclair told me some hard truths, but I think I already knew them,” Ivanova admitted. “To see Talia now would just be foolish, and there's no saying what she could pick from my mind without me even knowing. But to see you, before you leave....” She drew a deep breath. “I want to apologise for my behaviour throughout all of this. You helped us greatly, and I treated you badly. I'm sorry. And please don't say it's okay because it isn't.”

“You're right, it isn't.” Lyta smiled. “But we all make mistakes and I can certainly understand your mistrust of the Corps and telepaths in general. So I won't say 'it's fine' but I will say 'don't worry about it'. Perhaps if I come back, we can start on better terms.”

“I think I'd like that,” Ivanova replied. She drained her cup and stood. “Thank you for the coffee.”

“Commander.”

Ivanova stopped at the door before it opened and turned. “Yes?”

Lyta stood with her hands clasped behind her back, obviously hesitant and unsure if she should voice her thoughts or not. “It's none of my business, and I didn't pick it from your mind, but you've been broadcasting pretty loudly since I arrived, and while you've been in here, just the two of us, it's hard not to notice.”

“I understand. Go on.”

“Talk with Captain Sinclair sooner rather than later. In fact, do it now. Don't let your pride be your undoing. I know it's hard, it's part of who you are. But in this case, I'd give it a rest. Trust him. Trust Sheridan, Garibaldi and Franklin too. They're your friends; it's okay to let people in sometimes.”

Ivanova listened carefully, not trusting herself to speak. Instead she nodded curtly and left.

Lyta shrugged. “You're welcome.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Perhaps it was just coincidence, or maybe fate was at work, but Sinclair and Ivanova found each other in the corridor; he was on his way to her quarters, she was on his way to his.

“Mine or yours?” Sinclair asked after taking one look at her face.

“Yours.”

He nodded, understanding why she had made that choice, and turned on his heel, Ivanova falling into step beside him. They were silent as they walked, and even when they reached the safety of his room, they didn't speak. Sinclair shucked his jacket and undid his cuffs and collar.

“Susan....”

“No, Jeff. Not this time. You won't be the one to make the first move. I'm sorry I lashed out at you. I know I was angry, but it wasn't fair to take it out on you. And though I know you'll forgive me, because it's who you are, I still need to apologise.”

“So you should,” Sinclair replied with a smile. “Now stop beating yourself up and come here.”

“There's something else you should know first,” Ivanova said.

“Go on.”

“I went to see Lyta. She forgave me.”

Sinclair's smile grew. “Good.”

“She also knows how I feel about you. Apparently I've been projecting it loudly,” Ivanova said with a wry smile.

He tried not to laugh, but soon became serious as he recalled something from earlier. “Sheridan spoke to me about...us as well. He didn't exactly give his approval, but he said for right now, as long as we don't break the regs, he'll look the other way.”

“Can we really be this lucky?”

“I don't know, but I'm going to enjoy it while it lasts. Now, I have a suggestion.”

“I'm listening.”

“Take a shower. Borrow some of my clothes. I'll order in and this time we'll actually eat it,” Sinclair said. “Then we can watch something or listen to something, then we can go to sleep. How does that sound?”

“I think it sounds perfect,” Ivanova replied, taking a step towards him. “And I think I'm very lucky to have you.”

“Likewise.”

As she reached him, she slid a hand under his shirt, resting her palm over his heart. She closed her eyes and allowed the steady beat to sooth her, ground her again. Sinclair closed his eyes as well at her touch, his hands coming to rest on her hips.

“Susan,” he whispered. “I -”

Ivanova put a finger on her lips. “No. Not like this. Not after some crazy incident. If...when we say that to each other, I want it to be the right time.”

“No such thing,” Sinclair told her softly. “And whether I say it or not doesn't mean I don't feel it.”

She smiled at him. “Then we don't need to say it, do we?” And she kissed him.

TBC


	44. 219 The Long Twilight Struggle

_December 2259_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

None of the command staff had quite realised how important it was to have a commercial telepath on board the station until they didn't have one, and their requests to Psi Corps and Earthdome to send a replacement were falling on deaf ears.

“Can't say I'm surprised,” Garibaldi said over breakfast. “I mean, they must be pretty pissed with us that we uncovered their program.”

“True, but leaving us without a telepath seems like too obvious an admission of their guilt,” Sinclair replied.

Ivanova was stony face; what had happened to Talia still stung her. “Each communique we get from Earth just says that right now, a commercial level 5 telepath isn't available and that we'll just have to wait.”

“Do they realise how much business we're losing from this?” Garibaldi asked. “And because we're losing revenue, so are they. I mean, they want us to be more self-sufficient, don't they?”

Sinclair had been quiet, lost in his thoughts. “Maybe that's the idea. Maybe there are still those in the government that would like to see Babylon 5 fall.”

“Maybe?” Ivanova asked, looking at him with one eyebrow raised.

He shrugged. “I was trying to be generous.”

“Don't be. They're obviously not.”

“Where's Sheridan this morning?” Garibaldi asked. “Lying in?”

Sinclair shook his head. “He had the late shift last night.”

“Anything interesting happen?”

“Only that Ambassador Mollari has left for Centauri Prime,” he replied sombrely. “And I have a bad feeling about that.”

“Why? They probably just want to congratulate him in person on the demolition of the Narns,” Garibaldi said sarcastically.

“I thought he was your friend?” Ivanova asked.

“Doesn't mean I don't think he's acting like an ass. I mean, let's face it, he hasn't exactly protested much about this war, has he? In fact, I'd say he's done pretty damned well out of it.”

“Enough, Michael,” Sinclair said wearily. It was obviously a subject he had heard a lot of recently. “How are we doing with moving the Narn refugees on?”

“It's a slow process,” Ivanova told him. “But we're doing our best.”

“And Dr Franklin? How is he?”

“He should be here,” Ivanova said. “I don't know. Some days, he's fine, and other days, it seems like the stress is really getting to him.”

“He seems fine to me,” Garibaldi remarked with a shrug. “And no offence, but I probably see more of him than anyone else.”

Sinclair looked at him. “We're just concerned about him, Michael.”

“I know. And if I thought there was anything to be worried about, you'd be the first to know.”

“How long do you think the Narns can hold out?” Ivanova asked after a while. “They seem to be losing heavily with no signs of the tide turning.”

“I don't know, and there isn't anything we can do to help them either,” Sinclair said.

“At least we're doing something, Jeff,” Garibaldi told him. “That's better than nothing.”

“I know, I just feel like we should be doing more.”

“We can't fix everyone else's problems.”

Sinclair sighed. “I know.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

He should have felt like a hero returning home, but he didn't. The first time he had set foot on Centauri Prime in...well, it must have been years. He couldn't actually remember. He had resigned himself to being stuck on Babylon 5 for a long time; he had never expected things to turn out this way. And even though he knew it was all wrong, he couldn't turn back. His pride wouldn't let him.

Yet his heart was heavy in a way he couldn't explain as he made his way into the palace to meet with Refa.

Refa. He wanted to strangle the Centauri with his bare hands. He would never forget that Refa had cost him one of his dearest friends; one day, he would pay for forcing him to kill Urza. And he would make sure that it was extremely painful when it happened. But for now, he would continue to play the devil's game.

After all, he was still in control.

At least that's what Londo kept telling himself.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Commander, we're getting an energy surge from Epsilon III,” Corwin informed Ivanova with a frown.

She pressed her console and Sinclair's face appeared. Ever since the incident with Talia the previous month, and Sheridan's subsequent conversation with the other Captain about his relationship with Ivanova, they had both taken extra precautions to be more discreet and professional in the way they conducted themselves. As she looked at him, she made sure no emotion showed on her face.

“Captain, I thought you might like to know we're detecting an energy surge from Epsilon III.”

_“Hostile?”_ Sinclair asked.

“Doesn't seem that way.” She watched as his expression changed. “You know what it is, don't you?”

_“I have a good idea,”_ he replied. _“And I wouldn't worry about it too much.”_

“Should I inform Captain Sheridan?”

_“If I'm right, he'll know about it any time now.”_

Ivanova just nodded, knowing better than to argue with him. “Yes, sir.”

Sinclair ended the comms and returned to his paperwork. Moments later, he was aware of another presence in the office. “Hello, Draal.”

“Captain Sinclair!” the Minbari greeted him in a booming voice. “It is good to see you again. I had feared you would not be returning.”

“So did I.”

“And yet....” Draal trailed off. “Never mind.”

Sinclair was alert now. “What have you seen? The Great Machine...did it show you something?”

“It shows me a great many things, Captain,” Draal replied evasively.

“Did it show you a different future? Or should I say a different past. Something that could have been...or maybe even _should_ have been?” Sinclair asked.

Draal's gaze was piercing. “How do you know of this?”

“A couple of months ago, I experienced...something, in Sector 14. The last time I was there, when Babylon 4 reappeared, I saw something too. A glimpse of the future. But this was different.”

“I must admit, I'm surprised. Most humans are not that receptive to such powers in the universe.”

“Everyone on Babylon 4 experienced something similar, whether it was forwards or backwards in time.”

“Yes, I know. But I also know, just as you do, that what you saw is an unchangeable fact,” Draal said, not without sympathy. “The future is very much a fluid entity, based upon our choices and decisions in the present, but there are some things which cannot be altered. They have always happened, and they always will. What you saw on Babylon 4 was one of these things.”

“And when I returned to Sector 14 earlier this year? Was that real as well?” Sinclair asked, quelling the pain in his chest.

“That I cannot say,” the Minbari replied evasively. “But it is not of pasts or futures as such of which I wish to speak with you. I am extending an invitation to Captain Sheridan to come down to the surface. It is important he sees the Great Machine, and there are things I must discuss with him and Delenn. Do not worry, Captain, it will be perfectly safe for them.”

“Thank you,” Sinclair said.

“Captain Sheridan will inform you of what we speak about. And if he does not, Delenn will. But I will say this; I have hidden away long enough. So have you. It is time to reveal yourself to Sheridan.”

Sinclair's face remained expressionless. “I don't know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do. And do not concern yourself, Captain. The only people who can hear our conversation are you and I,” Draal assured him. “The darkness is moving faster; you must be faster. And maybe, soon, I will be able to help you and Sheridan in your own personal battle against the darkness.”

“What do you know about it?”

“Everything, Captain, but anyone else would have to dig down five miles to attempt to retrieve the information, and believe me, they would not survive the trip,” Draal said in a menacing tone.

Sinclair smiled. “I remember the planet's defences quite well.” He then looked carefully at the Minbari. “Are you alright down there, Draal?” he asked with respect. “Is there anything you need?”

He beamed at the Captain. “No, but it is kind of you to ask. I am, as you can see, very well indeed, though it will be nice to see Delenn again.”

“She's changed as well,” Sinclair replied.

“I know, and I approve.”

“As do I.”

“We are in agreement on many things, Captain. This is good.” Draal then tilted his head on one side as if listening. “I must go. Until next time, Captain Sinclair.” And then he was gone.

“Well, that was an interesting start to the day,” Sinclair murmured to himself.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

G'Kar could not have been more unhappy about the situation, but he just could not make G'Sten understand his concerns. His uncle treated him like a pouchling and he tried not let it annoy him too much. His feelings had served him well on many occasions, more so not he had started thinking more of others than himself, and he knew that G'Sten's plan was wrong. But he had no proof. Just a feeling.

It didn't help that Londo had left the station, the only time G'Kar could ever recall that happening. He couldn't help but think something wasn't quite right.

But he had no proof.

Just a feeling.

If he was wrong, then he would risk losing face and G'Sten would think less of him.

But if he was right....

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“I don't like it.”

“Garibaldi, you don't like anything,” Ivanova said to him.

“I know, but that doesn't mean I'm wrong,” Garibaldi replied.

Sheridan's expression was patient and amused. “Why would anyone want to fake a signal from the planet?”

“To lure you off the station? Easier target?”

Ivanova shook her head. “Garibaldi, I know you're paranoid, but that's going too far.”

He looked at her. “Is it? With everything else that's going on, is it crazy to think that someone would want to bump off one of the Captains? I mean, we do have a surplus.”

Sheridan mock-glared at him while trying not to laugh. Even Delenn looked amused. “Do you think I would not recognise my old friend?”

“Let's be honest, he doesn't look anything like the station records,” Garibaldi said.

“No. He looks younger, fitter, like when I first met him. And really, Mr Garibaldi, do I not look different as well?” Delenn asked.

Ivanova turned away before she laughed at his expression; Sheridan didn't bother, he just grinned at the security chief. “Fine, have it your way,” Garibaldi yielded ungraciously.

“Relax, Chief. The signal is genuine,” Sinclair said as he walked into the room.

Garibaldi frowned curiously at him. “And how do you know?”

“Because he spoke to me as well,” the Captain admitted.

Sheridan seemed happy with that development. “There you go then.”

“Wait a minute, that doesn't prove the signal is genuine.”

“Michael, Draal knew things that only someone with access to the Great Machine would know,” Sinclair said patiently.

“Like what?” Garibaldi asked.

“And how many people actually know Draal is down there?” Sinclair continued, ignoring his question. “Those of us in this room, that's it.”

“And Ambassador Mollari,” Ivanova pointed out grimly.

There was an uncomfortable silence. “He would not interfere,” Delenn said confidently.

“I wish I shared your optimism, Ambassador,” Garibaldi told her.

_“Commander, we tracked the signal.”_

“Where did it come from?” Ivanova asked.

_“It originated within the planet below,”_ the technician replied. _“Five miles below the surface.”_

“Thank you.” Ivanova looked at Garibaldi, as did everyone else.

He threw his hands in the air. “Fine. Send me a postcard.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova walked into the office to find Sinclair sat on the sofa and she immediately went up to him, her hands on his shoulders, her fingers threading through his hair. Ever since she had told him she was a latent telepath, the connection between them seemed stronger, though it was possible that was just her imagination. Sinclair hummed in appreciation at her ministrations and settled his head back on the sofa, his dark eyes looking straight up at her.

“This isn't being discreet,” he pointed out.

“You want me to stop?” she asked, pausing.

“Not really.”

“I'm making the most of the time when I know we won't be interrupted.” Ivanova slid her arms around his shoulders and rested her chin on his head, smiling when he covered her forearms with his hands. “Actually, I did come in here with some news.”

“Go on.”

“Captain Sheridan and Ambassador Delenn have reached the planet without a problem.”

“I didn't think there would be,” Sinclair said, smiling.

“And when I went to check on Dr Franklin, he shared something interesting with me.”

Sinclair guided Ivanova round until she was sat next to him, and was surprised to see a worried expression on her face. “What is it?”

“The last group of incoming refugees were saying that the Centauri have changed their battle strategy all of a sudden,” she explained. “Usually, they methodically neutralise them as they go along, but they have skipped several worlds in the last few days.”

“Like the Minbari did during the last days of the war when they decided to mount a final assault on Earth,” Sinclair said grimly, his mind automatically returning to those memories.

Ivanova nodded. “The question is, though, will the Kha'Ri listen to G'Kar? I've also heard that they are going to mount an attack on a supply outpost. Jeff, they're taking almost the entire fleet, leaving the Narn homeworld defenceless.”

“If that's true, then the Centauri know about it, which makes Mollari's absence all the more worrying.” He sighed. “If it's true, there may not be much else we can do except pray.”

“I'm getting a lot of practice in doing that lately.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Draal had observed the inhabitants of Babylon 5 closely during his year on Epsilon III, but none fascinated him more than the two people who were before him, and the two who had first visited the planet and rescued Varn. Draal had been saddened when Varn passed away but they both understood that death was as much a part of life as living was. And while some may say that being stuck in a machine beneath the surface of a planet wasn't exactly living, Draal could tell them they were wrong. He had seen a great many things.

Including what Sinclair had alluded to. A future which could not be altered, a destiny which could not be changed, and something that almost was and perhaps should have been. The latter was troubling, especially as it seemed clear that their enemies were also aware of this possibility, given the wedge they had tried to drive between Sinclair and Ivanova the previous year. But it hadn't worked, and that gave Draal some hope that perhaps things were actually working out how they were supposed to.

As for the two before him, their futures shone so brightly to him that he felt blinded by the obviousness of it all, yet they both seemed happily oblivious to what was happening. If not for the seriousness of the situation, Draal would have laughed. But they would learn, in time.

And then there was no more time for visiting as he felt a great shift in the balance of things. He urged Sheridan and Delenn to leave quickly, but with the promise he would see her again soon. He watched them go, happy in the knowledge that a friend who was very dear to him was being looked after so well.

“Now, I have work to do,” Draal muttered to himself. “Zathras. Zathras!”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“What's happening?” Sinclair asked as he strode onto the command deck, his expression grim.

Ivanova turned as he approached her, eyes dark with emotion. “We're receiving two separate reports. One is about the attack the Narns planned to lead on the Centauri supply base.” She took a breath. “They were completely destroyed.”

“And the Centauri?”

“We're not sure. There have been no damage reports from them.”

Sinclair stared in disbelief. “None?”

“None at all, sir,” Ivanova confirmed.

“What was the second thing?” he continued quickly, a knot of dread forming in his stomach.

“The Centauri have begun an assault on the Narn homeworld.” She shook her head. “There'll be a riot when the Narns find out.”

Sinclair nodded. “Get Garibaldi on the line.”

Ivanova turned and seconds later, replied, “Done.”

“Mr Garibaldi, I need you to get your security team ready to go at a moment's notice, full tactical gear. I want everyone out there.”

_“Will do, Captain. What's going on?”_ he asked and Sinclair could hear the frown in his voice.

“The Centauri are attacked the Narn homeworld. As soon as that news is made public, I'm putting the station on lockdown. I also want you personally in the docking bay when Sheridan and Delenn return,” the Captain ordered. “Escort Delenn to her quarters yourself.”

_“Yes, sir,”_ Garibaldi replied promptly. _“Recommend closing off cross-level traffic, as well as dispersing groups.”_

“See to it. I'll make an announcement as soon as possible.”

“They'll tear the station apart,” Ivanova predicted.

Sinclair face was grim set. “I won't let them.”

“Commander, I still can't reach Captain Sheridan,” Corwin told her.

“As soon as I heard what was happening, I thought it best to recall Captain Sheridan and Ambassador Delenn to the station, but we can't get through,” Ivanova explained.

“Don't worry, Draal won't let anything happen to them,” Sinclair assured her.

She nodded then moved closer to him. “They said the Centauri are using mass drivers, but that can't be right, can it?”

“Right now I wouldn't discount anything.” He gave her a fond look. “I have the feeling this is going to go on for a while. We'll keep watch in shifts, make sure we all get some rest. I think we're going to need it.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair sat staring out of the window. Three days. Three days of brutal assault on their planet and the Narns still had refused to surrender. And now...now everything was about to change. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't register the presence of the others until Ivanova touched his shoulder. “You wanted to see us?” she prompted.

Despite trying his best, Sinclair couldn't help but take a moment to admire her, regardless of who else was present to notice his obvious admiration. Sheridan had been talking to Garibaldi as they walked in and at that moment, he glanced over at the desk. Seeing Ivanova on Sinclair's left, her hand on his shoulder, their eyes locked with each other, he couldn't imagine anything more perfect – more _right_ \- and he couldn't for the life of him imagine why he had ever thought to come between them.

“They've always been like that,” Garibaldi murmured to him. “From the moment Ivanova was assigned to Babylon 5. I wouldn't try to label it; it's not worth the stress.”

“I'm getting that feeling,” Sheridan replied, shifting his attention as Sinclair gestured to the chair opposite. The younger Captain sat while Garibaldi perched on the edge of the desk.

“We need more chairs,” the security chief grumbled.

“Why? You'll only jump up and start pacing in a minute anyway,” Sheridan told him.

Sinclair smiled briefly. “I just had a meeting with G'Kar. Due to the ferocity of the Centauri attack on the Narn homeworld, the Kha'Ri are being forced to offer the unconditional surrender of the Narns.”

Everyone looked shocked. “Unconditional?” Garibaldi repeated. “The Centauri will massacre them.”

“Worse. They'll set up 'work camps' and turn them into slaves,” Ivanova said grimly. “They'll finish what they started last time.”

Sheridan had his fists balled on the table. “There has to be something we can do.”

“There isn't and you know it. Not yet at least,” Sinclair replied. “It seems, though, that the Kha'Ri don't want G'Kar to return home.”

“Of course not,” Garibaldi said. “If he does that, he's dead the moment he steps foot on the planet.”

“I know, Michael. Instead, he has asked for sanctuary here on Babylon 5. I've granted it.” Sinclair looked at Sheridan, who nodded in approval.

“Good. At least he'll be safe here, and maybe we can help him do some good.”

Ivanova pulled a face. “Ambassador Mollari will spit neutrons when he finds out we're going to shield G'Kar.”

“That's him problem,” Sinclair said firmly. “I'll gladly go toe-to-toe with him over the issue if he wants to push it.”

“Not without me, you won't,” Sheridan told him.

Sinclair looked at Garibaldi. “How is it out there?”

“Quiet. We're still on lockdown and I recommend staying that way for a while longer yet.”

“I agree. That's all.”

Sheridan and Garibaldi walked out together, but Ivanova lingered. “There's something else bothering you,” she said, sitting on the edge of the desk facing Sinclair.

“It was difficult to see someone as proud as G'Kar so humbled,” he admitted. “I know we don't always see eye to eye, but there is a respect between us. To see him forced into this position....” He shook his head. “And you were right, Mollari is _not_ going to be happy about this development. I think having both of them on the station is just asking for trouble.”

Ivanova noticed that before, whenever Sinclair talked about the Centauri ambassador, he always called him Londo; now it was 'Mollari', and there was an edge to his voice when he said it. “G'Kar isn't stupid enough to cause problems, not when we've given him sanctuary.”

Sinclair held her gaze. “It isn't G'Kar I'm worried about.”

“You can't evict him from the station,” Ivanova pointed out. “That would just be asked for the Centauri to declare war on us next, and I'm almost certain Earthdome would frown on that action. It would be a real career killer.”

He laughed. “I wasn't seriously considering it, but you know, accidents do happen....”

“Not funny, Jeff.”

“I wasn't joking, Susan.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan looked around the room angrily. “There isn't anything you can throw,” Sinclair told him. “I already checked in my first week here.”

“How do you do it?” he asked, pacing in frustration.

“Practice.”

Ivanova walked in. “Is it safe yet?”

“Not really.”

“I could hear the swearing on the command deck,” she told them. “I think you've effectively cleared the area of people for about three levels down and a mile in each direction.”

Sheridan gave her a look. “Ivanova, that would be most of the station.”

Her expression was overly innocent. “So it would be.” Despite himself, he laughed. “I'm guessing the Centauri's terms were steep.”

“That's putting it mildly,” Sheridan said.

“The Kha'Ri are to disband and surrender themselves to the Centauri for trial and sentencing. A provisional government will be appointed by the Centauri to rule in their place,” Sinclair told her.

“That doesn't sound too bad....”

“And if one Centauri is murdered by a Narn, the punishment will be the execution of five _hundred_ Narns, including the murderer and his entire family!” Sheridan snapped.

Ivanova stared, shocked. “That's monstrous!”

“Not only that, but Ambassador Mollari shot down our request to monitor the activities pretty sharply.” Sheridan stopped for a moment. “And when he asked for G'Kar to be turned over? I could've....”

“He was smug about it, Susan,” Sinclair explained. “There's no other way to describe it.”

“Yeah, and then when he found out that G'Kar had been granted sanctuary here, he _demanded_ that G'Kar leave the council immediately, ordering us around like we were....” Sheridan was so angry that words failed him.

“Beneath him?” Ivanova supplied helpfully.

“ _Far_ beneath him,” Sheridan agreed, clearly unimpressed with Londo's attitude.

“G'Kar maintained his dignity, though,” Sinclair said. “And he gave one hell of a speech before leaving.” He was silent for a moment. “We could offer him the help of Babylon 5, not Earth.”

“How does that work?” Ivanova asked.

“I have no idea, but we could work it out as we go along.”

“I agree. Do it.” Sheridan had stopped pacing, finally. “You know, I honestly think that if Delenn hadn't thrown the weight of the entire Minbari Federation behind us, Mollari might have taken his demands of G'Kar's surrender more seriously.”

Sinclair nodded his agreement. “One of us should thank her.”

“I'll do it,” the other Captain offered, suddenly eager instead of angry, and he excused himself from the council chambers.

“Smooth,” Ivanova complimented Sinclair.

He smiled. “I'm glad you liked it.” Then he leant forwards. “Now, are you going to tell me what's bothering you?”

“You seem distant the last couple of weeks.”

“Susan, we have to. You know that.”

“I know. I just didn't expect it to feel like this,” she admitted.

Sinclair took hold of her hand. “I'm here, now. And we had time together earlier.”

“What about tonight?” Ivanova asked.

“I think we can manage that,” he replied, smiling. “Which reminds me, we have a late meeting.”

“We do?”

Sinclair nodded and told her what was going to happen. “It's about time,” was Ivanova's reply.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

He should have felt happy. He should have felt pride in their achievements. He should be out celebrating their great victory.

But he wasn't happy, didn't know if he would ever be happy again.

He had no pride left; he isn't sure he ever knew what pride really was. Not after watching G'Kar leave the council chambers the way he did. _That_ was pride. _That_ was dignity. He would never have that.

And he didn't feel like celebrating because the victory wasn't really theirs. If it hadn't been for his 'associates', the Centauri would never have beaten the Narns so easily. Eventually, yes, but not without considerable loss on their part. But it was no victory, letting someone else do the hard work. At first, he had thought so, thought nothing of their help, but now....

And then to learn that the Centauri Republic had plans to annex several smaller worlds...that was not the move he was expecting. He could see it all spiralling out of control, yet it was too late to stop the pebbles from falling.

Londo turned off the news, set aside his drink, and sat in silence, contemplating his lonely fate.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Even though G'Kar was the same as he had always been, though his status was lower than before, Sinclair couldn't help but feel awed in his presence. What the Narn had suffered, endured and been forced to do, and he was still willing to fight. Sinclair could only hope that if he was ever in a similar situation, he would have G'Kar's strength. He had felt the need to apologise for recent events, for not being able to do more, and when he had offered to put his, Sheridan's and Babylon 5's resources at the Narn's disposal, he thought he would refuse. He wasn't yet sure what they could do to free Narn, if it was possible at all, but he knew they had to try. But G'Kar had overcome his pride, his fears, his anger, and taken Sinclair's hand. Because despite what had been taken from him, he still had his hope.

Sinclair wasn't sure he could say the same, not after what he had seen.

_“Captain Sinclair, you have a message from Ambassador Delenn.”_

“What is it?”

_“Just one word, sir. 'Now'.”_

“Thank you.”

Maybe hope wasn't lost after all, he thought as he headed towards his quarters to change.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan was by no means used to strange summons from Delenn, but he took them surprisingly in his stride when they did happen, like this one. He had been unable to find her after his meeting with Sinclair and Ivanova, so he had taken the time to change out of his dress uniform and take stock of what had happened, and what could possibly happen next. As he walked to the conference room, he had no idea what was about to happen; had no idea what would await him inside.

A group of humans and Minbari, all similarly garbed, was not what he was expecting.

As well as the presence of Ivanova, Garibaldi and, most surprisingly, Kosh.

“Clearly I've been missing something,” Sheridan said mildly.

Ivanova, Garibaldi and Delenn looked at each; the Minbari nodded to the security chief, who addressed the Captain. “They're called Rangers,” he explained. “They were established by the Minbari in the last great war against the darkness, and have come back now to help us fight in the coming war. They're a covert force, but I think that will change in the future.”

“And you've known about these Rangers for a while now?” Sheridan asked him.

Garibaldi nodded. “I was asked by a friend to keep their presence a secret,” he replied, looking at Delenn.

Sheridan looked at Ivanova. “And how long have you known?”

“Not as long as Mr Garibaldi, but long enough,” she told him.

“Why tell me? Why now?”

Delenn took a step towards him. “Do you remember what I told you about the Shadows, John?” she asked, and he nodded. “If we are to fight them, we must do it together, and that includes you.” She smiled.

Sheridan took a moment to process what was happening, looking around the room at each and every person, and he was suddenly keenly aware that Sinclair wasn't present, which struck him as very strange. “So you're their leader?” he asked Delenn, making the logical assumption.

Delenn's smile grew. “Actually, I am joint leader. Or, perhaps as you would understand it, second-in-command.”

Sheridan caught Garibaldi's startled expression; Ivanova, however, remained poker-faced and he knew then that she knew the truth. “So who is the leader?”

“I am,” Sinclair said, walking into the room in full Entil'zha clothing.

The Rangers in the room bowed instantly, including Delenn and Ivanova, confirming Sheridan's suspicions. Even Kosh inclined the head of his encounter suit. There was only Sheridan who remained unmoved, and Garibaldi, who looked pole-axed. The younger Captain guessed there would be some fireworks later between the two old friends; Garibaldi hated being kept in the dark, a feeling he shared. Yet he wasn't surprised at this turn of events.

“So there would be three of us?” Sheridan asked.

“As there should be,” Kosh intoned.

“Three is a sacred number in Minbari culture,” Delenn told him. “It is, how would you say? The way we do things.”

Sheridan then gave Sinclair an uneasy look. “Does this I have to answer to you?”

“I'm afraid so,” he replied.

“So you actually do outrank me?”

“I suppose so.” Sinclair's smile grew.

“And how often will I suffer that one, I wonder?” Sheridan asked, more to himself than anyone else.

Sinclair's expression grew serious. “If it's a problem for you, John....”

“No, no problem at all,” he reassured him quickly. “Just might take a little getting used to.” Then he smiled ruefully. “Guess this explains how you hit so hard and so fast, Jeff.”

Garibaldi finally woke out of his stupor and turned to Ivanova. “You knew? You knew and you didn't tell me?”

She shrugged. “I promised a friend,” she said, looking at Sinclair.

“I'm sorry, Michael, it was a necessary deception for a while,” Sinclair told him. “It wasn't because I don't trust you, I hope you understand that.”

“Misdirection,” Garibaldi stated, thinking of Psi Corps and other races with telepaths.

He nodded. “Exactly.” Then he turned to Sheridan. “So, Captain, what is your answer?”

“That in the coming darkness, Babylon 5 will stand with the light,” Sheridan replied, holding his hand out.

As the two men shook, Garibaldi muttered, “This is going to be fun.”

Ivanova grinned at him. “I know.”

TBC


	45. 220 Comes the Inquisitor

_December 2259_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“You're doing it again.”

“I can't help it. I still can't figure why it had to be you.”

“Thanks.”

“That's not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?”

“I just meant...well, why you?”

Ivanova rolled her eyes at Garibaldi. “Is it so hard to believe?” she asked the security chief.

“Don't drag me into this,” he replied. “I'm still not talking to him.”

“How many times do I have to apologise, Michael?” Sinclair asked in exasperation.

“You lied to me, Jeff. Worse than that, Delenn lied to me!”

“Minbari will lie to help another save face,” Sheridan told him wisely. Garibaldi pulled a face at him.

“Michael, you're not angry I lied, you're upset because you didn't see the truth,” Sinclair said.

“No, I'm not. I'd already guessed something was going on, and when Delenn told me about the Rangers, you being the leader made perfect sense,” Garibaldi replied. “But then when she told me the story about Alisa, I thought 'hey, this is Ambassador Delenn. She wouldn't like. To _me_.'”

Ivanova was amused by Garibaldi's attitude; she knew he wasn't angry at all, he was actually proud of his friend and doubly impressed he managed to keep the secret from him, but his pride prevented him from admitting that. So instead he covered it up with grumpiness. Tired, though, of the bickering, she laid a hand on his hand. “Michael, enough.”

He looked at her for a long moment, then held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, fine. I'm done.”

Once again, Sheridan was impressed with Ivanova's ability to deal with others, especially those close to her. And while he knew she had a special place in her heart for Sinclair, it was clear her affections were not solely limited to him, and he was once again forced to rethink his position on their relationship.

“Have we had any incidents since lifting lock down?” Sheridan asked.

Garibaldi nodded. “One or two, but so far, both the Narns and the Centauri are behaving themselves. Surprisingly.”

“Apart from G'Kar being more vocal than normal,” Sinclair pointed out.

“Okay, apart from that.”

Ivanova frowned. “What's this?”

“G'Kar has taken to preaching to anyone who will listen – which isn't many, to be honest – that if someone doesn't rein in the Centauri aggression, any of the other races could be next,” Garibaldi explained. “I've spoken with him about it, but technically, he isn't breaking any laws.”

_“Chief, we've got a problem.”_ Zack's voice came over his link.

Garibaldi rolled his eyes. “Let me guess, Ambassador G'Kar?”

_“Yes, sir. Want me to ask him to...disperse?”_

“No, I'll do it.” He stood and picked up his breakfast tray. “He might not be breaking any laws, but he's definitely trying my patience.”

Ivanova smiled and shook her head. “There are some days I feel sorry for him.”

Sheridan leant forwards and lowered his voice, his eyes sweeping the mess hall before he spoke. “We can't let ourselves get too caught up with the Narns and the Centauri,” he said quietly. “We've still got things back home to keep our eyes on.”

“There isn't much we can do until we get a break,” Sinclair replied. “And I don't know about you, but so far, other than the information Dr Jacobs managed to pass to us, I haven't found anything else whatsoever. We have bits and pieces; we need most of the jigsaw if we're to have any idea of what the full picture looks like.”

“Whoever was involved was very thorough. They must have connections everywhere,” Ivanova said.

Sheridan nodded. “But they can't have thought of everything. There's got to be a slip up somewhere, an opening we can exploit. We just have to keep looking for it.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

When Sinclair entered the office, his first thought was how much time they were spending in there lately, and he started to seriously consider Garibaldi's suggestion of getting more chairs. It was like they were having a war council, and he filed away a suggestion that they started meeting in the conference room instead to mention to the others later. Then he noticed Sheridan stood by the window, his hands clasped behind his back, and even though he could not see his face, Sinclair knew he was troubled about something. Quietly, but making enough noise so as not to startle him, he walked over and stood next to him, pushing his hands deep into his pockets.

“I'm glad we put this in,” he said, looking out at the inside of the station. “I wasn't sure at first, but it's grown on me.”

“It happens,” Sheridan replied, and Sinclair was sure he wasn't talking about the window any more. Then the younger Captain turned and he was surprised to see his face was etched with worry. “Delenn came to see me earlier. To ask...a favour.” He shook his head and turned away. “It was strange. I asked her why she didn't talk to you instead? I mean, I know we're equal, but let's face it, there are some things that you are better equipped at handling than I am. And vice versa. And this...I definitely thought this would be more your thing than mine.”

Sinclair waited for a while, but when it was clear Sheridan wasn't going to say any more, he was forced to ask, “What are you talking about?”

“It seems that an...inquisitor is being sent,” he explained. “By Kosh. The Vorlons believe that people who lead for the wrong reasons eventually corrupt and destroy the very cause they are fighting for. Kosh wants to make sure Delenn is the right person for the job, I guess.”

Sinclair's expression instantly matched Sheridan's; a deep, concerned frown. “Why Delenn?”

“I don't know.”

“Why did you say she would have been better talking to me?” he asked.

Sheridan turned again. “Because it's to do with Delenn's joint leadership in the Rangers. Apparently.”

Sinclair stared, shocked. “What?”

“I wondered if you knew anything about this and just hadn't said anything,” he admitted. “I can see now that you don't.”

“I had no idea.” His frown deepened. “What is Kosh up to?”

“Who knows? But why Delenn?” Sheridan asked, repeating Sinclair's question. “Why not you? Or even me?”

“I don't know. But I'm going to find out.” With that, he strode from the room.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“You should not be here,” Delenn said as Sinclair entered her quarters.

“Sheridan just told me. I'm worried about you. What's going on?”

“What must be. You cannot interfere. Promise me you will let this happen the way it must.”

Sinclair swallowed hard and took a step towards her. “I don't want to lose you,” he said, his voice hoarse.

Delenn smiled sadly at him. “One day, that may happen. You must learn to accept it. You cannot control everything.”

“Why you? Why not me? Or Sheridan?”

“Perhaps you will be tested later. Or perhaps Kosh is concerned that I am unfit for the task ahead.”

“Why now?” Sinclair asked.

Delenn smiled again, more amused but still tinged with sadness. “You sound like a Vorlon.”

“I'm just looking for answers, Delenn,” he replied. “It because I care about you.”

“I understand, and I thank you for your friendship, Jeff. But I will face this trial like I have faced others. What will be will be.”

“If there is anything I can do....”

“There is not,” she said forcefully, then softened momentarily. “Perhaps one thing.”

“Anything, Delenn.”

“Please make sure John does not interfere either.”

Sinclair tried not to smile at how easily Sheridan's name rolled off her tongue; it had taken her much longer to call him by his first name, and even now it still seemed to take an effort on her part. “I can't promise as you know how stubborn he can be, but I will try.”

“And now you must go,” Delenn told him.

He reached forward and touched his fingers to her sternum. “May Valen go with you.”

“And you.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova was on the command deck, completely unaware of what was happening, when a Vorlon ship came through the jumpgate. Her eyes widened and she stared curiously. “Hail it and contact one of the Captains,” she ordered.

“That won't be necessary, Commander,” Sheridan said as he walked onto the deck. “Just get the ship to dock in Bay Twelve, and inform the pilot I'll meet them there personally.”

Ivanova just stared. “Sir? Is there something I should know?”

“No, Commander. I'll take care of this matter. See to it?” he said before walking off.

Soon after, Sinclair came onto the command deck, his face etched with worry. “Are you going to tell me why we have a second Vorlon ship in the docking bay?” Ivanova asked quietly.

“There is an inquisitor here,” Sinclair explained just as quietly. “Kosh sent for him. He's supposed to 'test' Delenn, to see if she is suitable.”

“Suitable for what?”

“That I don't know.”

Ivanova's face creased with concern. “She'll be alright, won't she?” she asked.

Sinclair sighed. “That I don't know either.”

They stayed silent for a few moments, just taking comfort in being close to each other. “Do we have to keep an eye on Captain Sheridan?” Ivanova asked after a while.

“Probably. Delenn doesn't want him to interfere.”

“What are the chances of that happening?” she replied sarcastically.

“I know,” Sinclair said with a smile. “Oh, I also heard from Garibaldi. Apparently G'Kar has been trying to buy arms on the station.”

“I'm not surprised. Given everything that's happening, I'm just surprised it hasn't happened sooner.”

“The Chief gave him a chance to lie but he didn't take it, so Garibaldi has set him up with a contact of his who runs a remote outpost right next to a jumpgate,” Sinclair explained with a wink.

Ivanova remained expressionless but her eyes shone. “Well, we did promise to help G'Kar any way we could. I'd say this is a good start.”

“So would I.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Captains, G'Kar would like a word if you're not busy?” Garibaldi said from the office doorway.

Sinclair looked up and then over at Sheridan, who was clearly distracted. “Just give us a moment, Chief, and then bring him in.”

Garibaldi nodded and left. Sinclair cleared the space in front of him and leant onto the desk. “Babylon 5 to Captain Sheridan. Your presence is required back in the present moment.”

“Aren't you concerned?” Sheridan asked, frowning as he came out of his daze.

“About a great many things, not least of which is your preoccupation right now,” Sinclair replied.

“Delenn is being tortured and....”

The older Captain leant over the desk and grabbed a handful of Sheridan's uniform, his eyes blazing instantly. “Trust the system. As hard as it might be. Trust that everything happens for a reason.”

“I would...if you believed it yourself,” Sheridan replied calmly.

Sinclair released him and sat back down. “Of course I'm worried, but there isn't much we can do without putting her in danger, and I'm not prepared to do that. I will not interfere. And neither will you, Captain.”

“You can't give me orders.”

“Entil'zha.”

“I was right, that is going to become real old, real quickly,” Sheridan said, scowling.

Garibaldi appeared again. “If you ladies have finished, you have a visitor.”

When G'Kar walked in seconds later, the two Captains were smiling, no indication of their disagreement. “G'Kar,” Sinclair greeted him. “What can we help you with?”

“I have a...request to ask of you both,” the Narn said. “My...position on the station right now is...precarious. In order to retain control over the Narn population, I need to prove I am worthy of their loyalty.”

Sheridan nodded in understanding. “What do you need?”

“Messages from those on the Narn homeworld who have family here,” G'Kar said. “Within twenty four standard hours.”

Sheridan's eyes widened. “You're asking a lot, G'Kar, especially given the urgency of your request.”

“I know, and if there was any other way, I would not be asking,” the Narn assured him. “But my resources are not what they once were, and if I fail to deliver on my promise, the Narns will rightfully elect someone else.”

“We'll see what we can do,” Sinclair promised. “Do you have the names of the Narns we need to contact?”

G'Kar seemed relieved. “I'll send them to you immediately,” he said, banging his fists against his chest. “Thank you, Captain.”

“If you could ask Mr Garibaldi to come in on your way out,” Sinclair said with a nod.

“Are you sure about this?” Sheridan asked.

“Positive.”

“You wanted to see me?” Garibaldi asked.

Sinclair nodded and told him of G'Kar's request. “This is a good job for the Rangers.”

“They're not ready for something like this,” Garibaldi said. “They're not soldiers.”

“You're right, they're not, but it's time they got ready,” Sheridan told him, agreeing with Sinclair. “They need to be more than they are right now. This is start.”

“And G'Kar is a known quantity,” Sinclair continued. “If we can keep him where he is, we'll know what we're dealing with. He can be a stabilizing influence on the Narns that we might not get with someone else.”

Garibaldi shrugged. “Alright. Do you have a Ranger in mind?”

Sinclair nodded. “I do. Find Marcus Cole.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Delenn lay on the floor curled up in a ball, hating that she was showing weakness but unable to help it. She had answered all of Sebastian's questions truthfully, from her heart, and it still wasn't enough. She didn't know what he wanted. But she knew what she wanted.

She wanted to see Sinclair's face one last time, wanted to her his soothing voice lull her to sleep. She could die knowing he was safe, knowing that his destiny, whatever it was, would still be fulfilled.

She wanted to see Ivanova again, to have the chance to progress in their friendship. The connection she felt with the Commander was surprisingly strong, though they had spent little time together. But Delenn knew a kindred spirit when she felt one, and Ivanova was definitely that. She also had a destiny, a predetermined fate which no one else was aware of, not even the woman herself. Delenn did not know either, but it was something she seemed to be able to sense.

More than anything, she wanted to make sure they were safe, like a mother protecting her children. Should her name fall from their memories, should her face be forgotten, that would alright. As long as they were safe. No fame or glory was needed for doing the right thing.

And then she felt it. She sensed his presence before he arrived, like she had never been attuned to no other. “John, no,” Delenn whispered. It seemed her silent wish of seeing him before she died was about to come true.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair waited outside Kosh's quarters, aware that he was possibly tempting death by what he was about to do, but he had to know. It was bad enough that Delenn had to submit to an interrogation, but now it seemed Sheridan had disappeared as well. Sinclair could guess where he had gone, and would deal with that issue later. But for right now, he wanted answers.

When the door eventually opened, Sinclair wasted no time striding through before it shut again. Kosh's encounter suit stood empty; it wasn't the first time he had seen it that way and he wasn't impressed.

“What's going on?” he demanded to know. “You have Delenn tested supposedly to determine whether she is fit to help lead the Rangers or not, but you haven't approached me. I'm tired of being a pawn, Kosh. I need answers.”

“What is happening is necessary,” Kosh replied from behind his screen.

“Delenn said the same thing. That isn't an answer, though,” Sinclair told him.

“You are not ready for answers.”

Sinclair had been prepared for that brush off. “Yes, I am.” He took a breath. “Last year, when we went to rescue the crew from Babylon 4, I caught two glimpses of the future. One showed me going to Z'ha'dum...and dying. That is real, I know that now. It _will_ happen.”

“Yes.”

“The other glimpse...was of....” Sinclair swallowed. He hadn't shared this with anyone, had lost count of how many times he had dreamed it, felt it....

“You and Commander Ivanova. Together,” Kosh replied. “You see this more and more often.”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“That isn't a possible future either, is it?”

“What is happening...now...in this time...will shape the past and de-construct the future. What is yet to come had already happened,” Kosh said. “You cannot resist the waves.”

Sinclair stared. “As cryptic as always.”

“That is because you listen to the music and not the song. Open your mind.”

And suddenly, Sinclair was back on the Streib ship, with Kosh in his thoughts. He was on Babylon 5, seeing his future with Ivanova...and then seeing his death. He was in the future, fighting for Earth, he was in the past....

“You are ready,” Kosh admitted.

Sinclair had closed his eyes at the onslaught of images, but opened them now when he realised the Vorlon was right in front of him. Without his encounter suit. “I have seen you before.”

“Yes.”

“What is it I can't remember?”

“You are not ready for that,” Kosh told him in an almost gentle tone. “But you will be. When the time is right.”

“Why am I not being tested?” Sinclair asked. “Am I giving my life to a cause I'm not worthy of?”

“No. Your mate was correct. You have already been tested...in your terms, last year. You faced great doubt, great anger, and pain. You both wanted to yield. You did not. But not for fame or glory; for each other. You both proved then that you are the right people.”

Sinclair was stunned, not just be the amount of words Kosh just used – more than he had ever spoken at one time, or possibly all together – but by the amount of information he had just been given. “And I take it I have to keep this to myself.”

“No,” Kosh replied. “Now, leave me. It is almost over.”

The Captain went cold. “What do you mean?”

But the Vorlon had already retreated behind his screen, indicating the conversation was over. Sinclair bowed and left his quarters, intent of finding Delenn – and Sheridan – as quickly as possible, but first there was someone else he needed to talk to.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan was highly aware of Delenn at his side as they left the chamber; the feel of her body against his, the places where their skin touched, her hair under his chin. He still didn't want to look too closely at what he felt for her, didn't want to put his emotions under the microscope; he wasn't sure he was ready to deal with what he might find. He didn't know if he ever would be, though after Sebastian's little test, he found himself contemplating he might at some point in the future.

Footfall caught his attention, someone moving fast, long strides. Sheridan didn't need to see the person to know who it was, and he stopped in the middle of the corridor. Delenn extracted herself long enough from his arms to look up at his face, wondering what the problem was.

The 'problem' appeared around the corner seconds later, fists balled at his side, eyes black, face like thunder. Delenn had never seen Sinclair so angry; Sheridan had and he knew exactly what was going to happen. Gently, he removed his arms from Delenn.

“You might want to move out of the way,” he said.

Delenn looked at him, confused, then looked back at Sinclair. Understanding suddenly dawned on her. “I am not moving,” she told him firmly.

Sheridan then noticed that Ivanova was on Sinclair's left, one step behind him, her expression identical, and he couldn't help but draw comparisons between the two of them, and him and Delenn. “Jeff, hear me out,” he started to say, hoping to calm the other Captain down.

It didn't work.

“You stupid, arrogant, selfish...,” Sinclair raged, raising his fist.

Delenn put herself firmly in front of Sheridan. “Jeffrey, no!”

At the use of his full name, as well as the sight of her protecting him, Sinclair faltered. “You as well?” He dropped his arm and began pacing instead, chewing off angry curses.

“This had to happen, Sinclair, you know that,” Sheridan said, hoping to reason with him.

“You don't get it, do you?” Ivanova asked, just as angrily.

“Commander, watch you tone. I'm still your commanding officer.”

“To hell with my tone and right now, you're an idiot, _sir_ ,” Ivanova snapped back.

“Susan, the test was necessary,” Delenn told her.

“You were told to stay away,” Sinclair said, approaching Sheridan but not close enough to hit him. “You were _told_ not to interfere. And yet you did. You endangered Delenn and....”

Sheridan's patience started to wear thin, then. “I _had_ to interfere, that was Kosh's plan all along! He wanted us both to be tested, but couldn't just say that.”

Sinclair simmered a little and stepped closer. Then, without warning, he slapped Sheridan's cheek. It was more of a tap than a full blown offensive, but it still shocked him. “You are an idiot, John,” he said. “If you had let me finish, I was going to say you endangered Delenn _and_ yourself.”

Sheridan blinked several times. “You're angry because of that?”

Ivanova looked at him as though he was stupid. “Of course we are.”

Delenn placed her hand on Ivanova's arm and smiled. “And we appreciate your concern,” she said, looking at Sinclair as well to let her know that 'your' meant both of them.

Sinclair didn't say anything, just put one arm around Delenn's shoulders and embraced her. Then he deliberately relinquished his hold of her to Sheridan, who took her once more in his arms. Sinclair moved to stand next to Ivanova, not quite holding hands, but not far off it.

“What about you?” Sheridan asked after a while. “Were you, or will you be, tested?”

Sinclair turned to Ivanova and the two of them shared a long look. “I have been tested,” he replied eventually. “Kosh is happy that the right people are in the right place at the right time.”

Sheridan looked at him incredulously. “Happy?”

“Not the best choice of words,” he said, smiling. “He is...convinced that everything – absolutely everything – is happening just as it should be.”

Delenn looked from Sinclair to Ivanova and back again, and suddenly realised what he wasn't saying. Despite what had just happened to her, she found a reason to smile in that moment. All that remained was to explain everything to Sheridan in a way that he would understand, and in a way that would not jeopardise Sinclair or Ivanova's careers. But Delenn was fairly confident she could handle that task.

“Now what?” Ivanova asked.

“Now we get that damned man off our station,” Sheridan said firmly.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Garibaldi walked onto the command deck, surprised to see Sheridan alone. “Captain.”

“Mr Garibaldi.”

“Did I miss the fire?” he asked, looking around.

Sheridan smiled. “No. I told everyone to take a break. This is something I wanted to watch alone.”

“You want me to go?” Garibaldi asked.

“No, it's fine. You came up here for a reason.”

“Yes, I did. I've just heard that the Narns will continue to follow and trust G'Kar after watching the messages from their families back on the homeworld.”

Sheridan nodded. “Good. The fewer variables in all of this, the better.”

“Still no word about Na'toth, though,” Garibaldi said.

“That doesn't mean she isn't alive,” Sheridan pointed out.

“I know, but it doesn't mean she isn't dead either,” the security chief replied.

A Vorlon ship appeared exiting the station then, and the two men watched in silence as it approached the jumpgate and then disappeared into the vortex. “Good riddance,” Sheridan said quietly.

“I hear Sebastian has been around for a while.”

“A few centuries, give or take a decade.”

Garibaldi shook his head. “It never ceases to amaze me what lengths the Vorlons will go to.”

“I know. I'm just glad they're on our side,” Sheridan told him.

“Are they, though? Yeah, they're helping us, but why do I get the feeling that they're really only in this for themselves?”

“Because you're cynical and paranoid?” the Captain asked with a smile.

Garibaldi just pulled a face. “Where are Sinclair and Ivanova?”

“Off duty.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

They sat at opposite sides of the table, the meal between them half eaten. Ivanova was staring. “Tell me what he said again.”

Sinclair smiled. “It will be no different than the other five times I've told you.”

“I know, but I'm still trying to understand it.”

“Kosh said that you were right, that last year, when we fought so violently, it _was_ the Shadows' doing. And I think that because we worked our way through that, the Vorlons decided we didn't need testing again.”

“Because we didn't give in, we fought for each other and no other reason,” Ivanova said.

Sinclair nodded. “Yes. He said that we proved then that we are the right people.”

“In the right place at the right time for the right reasons.”

“Exactly.”

Ivanova pursed her lips. “He was talking about both of us.”

“Yes, he was,” Sinclair replied. “It seems that you're a part of this, whether you like it or not.”

“Oh, I like it just fine. I _don't_ like surprises, though,” she said.

“I know.”

Ivanova looked at him for a long time. “Tell me what he said again.”

Sinclair laughed. “What am I missing here?”

“I want to hear the words he used.”

Suddenly the air was close in the room, and his mouth was dry. “He said 'your mate'.”

“Mate,” Ivanova repeated. “Which, according to old English, could have two meanings. It could mean 'friend'....”

“Or lover.” Sinclair held her gaze. “What do you want it to mean?”

Ivanova smiled at him. “Do I have to pick just one?”

He couldn't help but smile back. “No.”

“In that case....” She took hold of his left hand. “...I think I'll pick....” She took hold of his right hand as well. “Both.”

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea that Marcus was the one to collect the messages from the Narn homeworld is actually canon, from an unpublished comic.


	46. 221 Fall of the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wasn't happy with this chapter, but there we go. Also, I'm starting a new job today and might not have a lot of time to write, so I have a couple more chapters written, and then the story might not be updated for a while. Sorry about that!

_December 2259_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair stood on the command deck staring out into space, Ivanova close by his side, both of them watching as Sheridan ran Zeta squadron through some training manoeuvres. Despite how hard Sheridan was running the pilots, despite the sense of impending doom that no one could ignore, Sinclair felt infinitely at peace; he felt calm, like everything was exactly as it was supposed to be. He had wondered that after he and Ivanova took the 'official' step further in their relationship, by actually naming what it was they were to each other, he would feel more uneasy, worrying that someone would discover their secret and court marshal them. But he didn't. It was more like a huge piece of the puzzle that was his life had fallen into place.

“They're good but they could be better,” Ivanova said. “There are some tricks some non-humans will use against us, like spinning because they can withstand G-forces better than we can.”

“I imagine Sheridan is saying something similar to them right now,” Sinclair replied with a smile. “How is Lieutenant Keffer?”

“He's still upset about having his flying time limited.”

“Has he given up looking for it?”

Ivanova shrugged. “I honestly don't know. I haven't heard anything on the grapevine, but that doesn't mean he isn't trying to find information on it.”

Sinclair nodded in understanding. “Maybe we should tell him something to curb his curiosity. He's a damned good pilot, I'd hate to lose him.”

“I know. Perhaps you could discuss it with Captain Sheridan after training.”

“Captain, I have the Drazi and Pak'ma'ra ambassadors both wishing to speak to you,” Corwin informed him.

Sinclair turned. “Tell them I'll meet them in the office in ten minutes.”

“I wonder what they want,” Ivanova said.

“I'll let you know when I've spoken to them. Tell Sheridan to wrap up training. I think they've done enough for today.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Ivanova said you had a meeting with the Drazi and the Pak'ma'ra,” Sheridan said as he entered the office.

Sinclair nodded, his expression grim. “The Centauri are 'liberating' several planets on the edge of Narn space, planets that belong to both races, which the Centauri know but are ignoring.”

Sheridan sat down heavily. “It's happening, just like G'Kar said.” He shook his head. “Where does it end? They're not going to stop there, you know.”

“I know. One of us needs to talk to Londo, see if we can make him see sense.”

“What about Garibaldi? They're supposed to be friends.”

“I'll talk to him about it later, but for now, it has to be one of us,” Sinclair said.

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Sheridan suggested.

“Actually, I was going to offer to do it.”

Sheridan narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Why?”

“Because if he refuses to cooperate, I'm going to blackmail him,” Sinclair replied mildly.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Mentioning to Londo the time that he helped him with Adira did Sinclair no good whatsoever; the Centauri ambassador was rude, arrogant and dismissive. It was like talking to a different person to the one Sinclair had known for the last couple of years; in fact, he was so angry with Londo's attitude, he had been close to throwing him off the station, or even worse, handing him over to the Narns and then claiming ignorance over his disappearance. But he did neither. Instead, he walked off his frustration by stalking down the corridors, everyone melting out of his path, until he found Garibaldi.

“Jeff. What happened to you?”

“Mollari.”

Garibaldi's face fell. “What did he do now?”

Sinclair filled him in briefly. “Can you talk to him, Michael? This situation is getting well out of hand, all so he can further his career.”

But Garibaldi was shaking his head. “Some days I don't recognise him. He's moving further and further away from the person he used to be.”

“It's his choice.”

“Is it? Take a good look at him some time, Jeff. He's scared,” Garibaldi told him.

Sinclair stared. “ _He's_ scared?” he asked, though as soon as he repeated the words, it made sense.

His friend nodded. “He's caught up in something he can't get out of. Maybe it seemed like a good idea at the start, maybe it was innocent in the beginning, I don't know. But now? Now I think he's more scared than the rest of us. I think he understands now exactly what he's got himself into and can't see a way out.”

“Then he's more dangerous than I thought,” Sinclair replied sadly. “Because if you're right, Michael, it means he'll get desperate quickly. And desperate people do stupid things.” His link went off. “Sinclair.”

_“Captain, meet me in the customs area,”_ Sheridan said, his voice strangely flat. _“We have some VIPs coming on board.”_

“I'll be right there,” Sinclair replied.

“Sounds like fun,” Garibaldi said.

“Define 'fun'.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Don't you two look happy?” Ivanova said as she joined the Captains in the mess hall for a late dinner.

“Ministry of Peace,” Sinclair replied.

“Nightwatch,” Sheridan added.

“Hell in a hand basket?” Ivanova guessed.

Sheridan nodded. “Definitely.”

“I'll talk with Garibaldi, make sure he knows what's going on,” Sinclair told the other Captain. “If we can get through this visit without any incidents....”

“It would be a miracle, but worth trying,” Sheridan replied.

Ivanova smiled at him. “I commend you for your Russian attitude.”

He tried to glare back but it didn't work. “Thanks.”

“On an unrelated matter, I was passing by the pilots locker room on my way here and I heard them discussing what they call 'the ghost'.”

“The ghost?” Sheridan repeated.

She nodded. “A strange spidery form in space...like the one you and Lieutenant Keffer encountered while rescuing the Cortez,” Ivanova said to Sinclair.

“Dammit!” Sinclair exclaimed. “So much for that idea.”

“I'm missing something,” Sheridan said.

Sinclair turned to him. “We were going to give Keffer some information on the ship we saw just to satisfy his curiosity and hopefully save his life. Now it seems that would be pointless; he's going to want to know more.”

“He spoke with one of the vets, Mitch Harvey, who has also seen it,” Ivanova told them. 

Sheridan spread his hands. “What can we do? We can't ground the leader of Zeta squadron permanently, not now. We could still explain the situation to him, try to make him understand why we don't want him making too much noise in that direction.”

But Ivanova was shaking her head. “I know Warren. He won't let it go. We're lucky he hasn't tried to look for it when he has been out on missions.”

“That we know of,” Sinclair pointed out, and she inclined her head, conceding the point.

“So what do we do?” Sheridan asked.

“Right now we need to concentrate on Lantze and Welles,” Sinclair said. “I want to know what they're really doing on this station.” He looked at Ivanova.

“What?” she asked.

“Furthering your diplomatic education, I want you to liaise with Mr Lantze. He wants to set up meetings with all the representatives of the non-aligned worlds to discuss the Centauri.”

Ivanova just nodded. “That's good, though, right? Earth is finally going to take sides.

“Don't be too sure which side they'll pick,” Sheridan replied darkly.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

The next morning, Ivanova checked her appearance before pressing the chimes to Lantze's quarters. She hadn't slept well the night before, not used now to an empty bed, and she had berated herself silently when she finally got up, telling herself that there would be times when Sinclair would not be able to stay with her for various reasons. She told herself that just because he wasn't there physically didn't mean he wasn't still with her.

Together.

If Ivanova thought about it properly, they had been together for months, maybe even before the start of the year...maybe forever. But now it was more official it gave her a warm buzz when she thought about it, or him. It also gave her strength. She hadn't realised how much she had been missing out on going through life alone. Alone was good sometimes, but not always.

Lantze seemed pleasant enough, very much like the doting grandfather he was, but she could see he was dangerous, though in a different way than usual. He was different because he truly believed he was doing the right thing; he truly believed in the Ministry of Peace, in the Nightwatch. He was actually naïve enough to believe that there would be peace in their time, and Ivanova almost felt sorry for him.

Then Lantze asked her if she had any children, and Ivanova's first reaction was to smile and shake her head, to say no and point out the obvious, that there wasn't much opportunity with her career. But the response died before it could be expressed. For the first time ever, she found herself actually thinking about children, actually contemplating what it would be like to have a family, and then, a flash. Herself, older, different, with two children...three...four.... A family. Ivanova had never really considered it at all; suddenly, in that instant, she couldn't imagine her life being complete without them.

“Commander, are you alright?” Lantze asked.

Ivanova forced a smile. “Yes, Mr Lantze. Are you ready?”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair sat in the small office area on the command deck, his chin resting on his hands as he contemplated all the possible outcomes of the day. It wasn't something he indulged in very often, but today he felt like he needed to. He had the feeling, developed over the years and honed with his time on Babylon 5, that something major was about to happen; he could almost taste it in the air as he breathed.

Then he became aware of someone stood at the foot of the steps, and he turned slowly, his eyes hooded. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

Corwin had never been particularly afraid of Sinclair; if anyone scared him, it was Ivanova, though she scared more people. But there was something about the Captain that was dangerous; something that commanded your respect even if you didn't know him. “Sir, we're detecting a ship approaching the station.”

Sinclair was instantly alert. “Not using the jumpgate?”

“No, sir.”

“Something else, Lieutenant?”

Corwin hesitated. “It's a Narn heavy cruiser, Captain.”

“Alright, I'll handle this. And don't mention it to anyone,” he ordered. Corwin nodded and retreated to the safety of his station. Sinclair stared at the monitor for a moment before pressing a button on his console. “C&C to Sheridan.”

_“Sheridan, go.”_

“I think you should get up here.”

_“I'm a little busy right now,”_ Sheridan replied.

Sinclair continued to stare at the Narn ship as it neared the station. “No, you're not.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova paced Sinclair's quarters angrily. “If he actually served the Earth Alliance and not himself, he could see just how insulting he was being!” she grumbled.

Sinclair just watched her, knowing that she didn't need anything from him except his calming presence, though he wasn't sure he was doing a good job of that, not with a Narn heavy cruiser parked outside and trying to hide that fact from everyone.

Ivanova suddenly dropped heavily onto the sofa next to him. “I can't believe he had the nerve to try and bribe me! Offering me my own command if I spy for them. I don't understand why anyone would want to join Nightwatch.”

“Some people don't understand the consequences of their actions at the time that they make their choices,” Sinclair replied quietly, thinking about what Garibaldi had said about Londo. “Zack Allan is part of Nightwatch, you know.”

“I know you have your doubts, but I like him,” she said.

“Had,” he corrected. “I _had_ my doubts. Though we'll see if I need to revisit them at a later date.” He looked at her. “Feeling any better?”

“Not really. I don't like people trying to buy my loyalty.”

“That's one of the reasons I trust you, because I know your loyalty can't be bought,” Sinclair said. “You only choose to give it if you believe fully in the ideals of the cause or the character of a person.”

Ivanova smiled at him and leant against his shoulder. “Thank you.” She listened to his heartbeat for a few moments, using it to ground herself. “Did you make a decision about the cruiser?”

Sinclair nodded. “Sheridan and I agreed to extend assistance to them at the very least, and more than likely we'll grant them sanctuary as well.”

“That will make Ambassador Mollari happy,” Ivanova said dryly.

“I don't care. That cruiser was on deep space patrol when the fighting broke out, and they have been on the run ever since,” Sinclair replied, anger creeping into his voice. “I'm sure they would have preferred to die fighting, but now the war is over, what can they do? And if Mollari doesn't like it, that's his problem. What is he going to do, blow up the station over it?”

She laid a soothing hand on his chest. “I know. And I think you both made the right decision.”

“I'm sorry. I just can't help but think back to last year, what was happening at this time.”

“Have you heard anything more about Catherine's ship?” Ivanova asked quietly.

Sinclair shook his head. “Still nothing.”

_“Captain Sinclair, you have a personal message coming in from Earth,”_ a voice sounded in his quarters.

“Put it through, audio only.”

_“Something wrong with those fancy monitors of yours?”_

Sinclair sighed. “Hello, Malcolm.”

Ivanova's eyes widened and she pointed to the door, mouthing 'Do you want me to go?'

He shook his head and squeezed her hand. “What is it?”

_“I thought you might like an update, though why I should think that I don't knowing, seeing as you never asked,”_ Malcolm replied.

“I'm sure that makes sense to you, but I'm not a mind-reader.”

_“I have news about Catherine. You do remember who she is, right?”_

Sinclair bit back an angry retort. “Just get on with it, Malcolm.”

_“Do you have someone there with you? You do, don't you? That's why you don't want the monitors on, you don't want me to see who it is.”_ There was a brief silence. _“I don't believe you, Jeffrey! The woman you've spent most of your life with is dead and the first thing you do is jump into bed with someone else!”_

Ivanova gasped, not just at the venom in Malcolm's words, but at the news he had just delivered. Sinclair had jumped to his feet. “That's enough!” he said, his voice low and deep, but full of rage. “I had no idea about Catherine, none at all. No one ever told me anything else after you told me her ship had disappeared, and yes, I did ask. As for my personal life, it's just that – personal. Catherine and I stopped seeing each other over eighteen months ago, and if I wanted to start seeing someone else, I'm entitled to!” He took a shaky breath. “And don't you _ever_ “Wreckage from the research ship was discovered out on the Rim, no survivors.”

“When?”

This time Malcolm hesitated. _“Last month,”_ he said and before Sinclair could reply, he cut the communication off.

The Captain balled his fists and began pacing, biting off angry curses with each step. Ivanova had seen him angry before, on several occasions, but this was different, and she could feel the oppressiveness of his rage like a physical noose around her throat.

“I should go,” she said, standing quickly. Sinclair stopped at the opposite side of the room and realising what was wrong with her, try to force himself to calm down. But Ivanova shook her head and took a step towards him. “Don't. You need to let it out. It's just...I can't be around you right now. Be angry, Jeff, it's okay. And if you need to talk or anything later, you know where to find me.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“I don't like this,” Garibaldi said crankily.

“We don't know enough about Nightwatch yet to make a move,” Sheridan told him.

“Doesn't matter, I don't like it. Why does the Ministry of Peace need spies everywhere?” Garibaldi asked.

Sinclair looked at him. “Keep your voice down, Michael. Those 'spies' you just mentioned could be anywhere.” The mess hall was fairly empty but there were enough people around for them to be more cautious than normal.

“Well that certainly makes our job easier,” Ivanova said sarcastically.

“How did the meetings go?” Sheridan asked her.

“Fine.”

“But?”

“It was strange. I know G'Kar's name wasn't on the list of representatives Lantze wanted to speak to; in fact, his was the _only_ name missing. But I figured that maybe Lantze waned to speak to him privately, you know?” Ivanova paused to sip her coffee. “Just as we were finishing, G'Kar came down the corridor and asked to speak to him. Lantze become very flustered and rushed away. I was left trying to apologise to G'Kar while trying to follow Lantze as well.”

Garibaldi was frowning. “I thought they were here to look into the Centauri problem.”

“That's what we thought as well,” Ivanova replied.

“I don't like this,” Sheridan said, echoing Garibaldi's words.

The security chief looked triumphant. “See?” he said to Sinclair.

Keffer paused in the doorway, watching the senior staff bantering, noticing that once again Franklin was missing, either by accident or design, and was tempted to join them. But the data crystal Mitch had just give him felt hot in his hand, and he knew he wouldn't be able to hide what he had just learnt from the others. He also knew they were hiding things, that they knew more about the strange ship than they were letting on. But it didn't matter, he'd find the truth out on his own.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

They were all gathered in Sheridan's quarters with the idea of exchanging Christmas gifts and generally relaxing, but the atmosphere was too tense, and with good reason. “So, what did I miss?” Franklin asked as he was the last to arrive.

Garibaldi silently noted the doctor's tired appearance and drawn face, but said nothing. They were all under a great deal of pressure and singling Franklin out wouldn't help the matter. “We have a Narn cruiser parked outside,” the security chief informed him.

“Great. Any casualties?” Franklin asked.

Sheridan shook his head. “They just needed to make some repairs on their ship, but needed to take their engines off line to do that. I told them that we'd protect them, that while they're in this sector of space, they're under our jurisdiction.”

“And then Mr Lantze came and dropped a bombshell,” Ivanova told them.

“He found out about our fighter exercises against Centauri models,” Sinclair said.

“Nightwatch,” Garibaldi all but growled.

“Maybe. It doesn't matter. He told us to cease and desist.” Sinclair smiled grimly.

“And do you know why?” Sheridan asked, picking up the story. “Because he's here to sign a non-aggression treaty with the Centauri.”

“The first step in building an Earth-Centauri alliance,” Sinclair finished.

There was silence. “This is nuts,” Garibaldi said eventually. “I thought they were here to investigate the situation.”

“Only so they could sign the damned treaty,” Sheridan replied.

Franklin's link beeped and he sighed. “Yes?”

_“I'm sorry, Doctor, but we have an emergency in med lab two.”_

“Alright, I'll be right there.” He stood up. “I'm sorry. Another time?”

They all nodded, and Garibaldi stood as well. “I'll walk out with you, Stephen. There's a couple of things I want to check up on.”

Sheridan shook his head. “It never fails, does it?” he said after they had left. “We think we're going to get some down time together and boom! Another crisis.”

“At least it isn't as bad as last year,” Ivanova said. “With the President's death and Michael almost getting killed.”

“I guess.”

“Well, we can still do the presents.” She handed him a box. “This is for you.”

Sinclair watched as Sheridan's expression turned from surprised, to pleased and touched, to confused as he opened the gift and pulled out...something. The older Captain tried to contain his smile; he knew what it was, having helped Ivanova secure it, and he hoped his counterpart would appreciate the gesture.

“Wow. This is great. I don't have one of these,” Sheridan said with slightly rigid smile. “What is it?”

Ivanova smiled back, a little shyly, Sinclair thought. “It's a piece of the Black Star. Everyone said the Minbari couldn't be defeated; they said it was impossible, and yet you did it. And with everything that's going on, I just wanted to remind you that the impossible is possible. You've done it before, you can do it again.”

Sheridan stared and blinked several times. “I don't know what to say,” he murmured. Then he stepped forward and gave her a one-armed hug. “Thank you.”

Sinclair finally allowed himself to smile as he watched the two of them, and he felt pride in the team the three of them made.

Three.

The thought froze him momentarily. The Minbari believed that three was a sacred number, and when Sheridan had taken over joint leadership of the Rangers with him and Delenn, it had felt right, the three of them managing the Anla'shok. Yet it had never occurred to him in the first place that Sheridan being on Babylon 5 was no accident; two Captains, one Commander. Three of them.

Suddenly it made sense.

The console in Sheridan's quarters suddenly sprang into life with the image of Londo, startling them all. The Centauri ambassador was angry, and demanded that the Narn heavy cruiser be turned over to him.

“I'm sorry, Ambassador, you're breaking up,” Sheridan said politely, then cut the comms link. “How the hell did he find out?”

“It has to be Welles,” Ivanova replied, shaking her head angrily. “He has people everywhere.”

Sinclair was on his feet and heading towards the door. “We'd better get up to C&C. This is going to get a lot worse before it gets better.” He gave a grim smile as they headed down the corridor. “Just let's delay telling Garibaldi for as long as possible. You know how he gets when he's right.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“I'll talk to the Narn cruiser. Sheridan, you handle the Centauri. Ivanova, tell Zeta squadron to suit up,” Sinclair ordered the minute they reached the command deck.

“We're not actually in an alliance with the Centauri yet, are we?” Sheridan asked.

“Not that I've heard.”

He nodded. “Just checking.”

“Zeta squadron, as soon as you are ready, launch and surround the Narn cruiser,” Ivanova ordered the pilots.

“Captain, we have a problem,” Sinclair said to the Narn. “The Centauri know you're here. We'll try to buy you as much time as we can, but I'm going to have to ask you to move away from the station.”

_“Of course,”_ the Narn captain replied. _“I would not want to risk the lives of innocents.”_

“Thank you. We're sending a fighter wing to escort you.”

“Right on time,” Sheridan muttered as a Centauri battle cruiser came through the jumpgate, demanding that the Narns be turned over to them. “This is Babylon Control to Centauri ship. While the Narn ship is in this sector of space, it is under our protection. We have extended them shelter and help, and now we are escorting them out of Babylon 5 space. What you do with them after that is up to you.” He turned to Corwin. “Make sure Ambassador Mollari gets a copy of that message too, and activate the defense grid just in case.”

“Aye, sir.”

Just then, Lantze walked onto the command desk, followed by Welles. The former looked shocked and outraged; the latter looked smug and it was even money who wanted to punch him more, Sinclair or Sheridan.

“What are you doing, Captain Sinclair?” Lantze asked. When he received no answer, he turned. “Captain Sheridan? You are both jeopardising everything I've worked so hard to achieve here!”

He didn't answer either. Instead the two Captains shared a glance, then Sinclair winked at Ivanova, who began to stride across the deck. Sheridan tried not to smile at what was about to happen. “I'm sorry, sir, but I'm going to have to ask you both to leave. This area is for authorised personnel only, and you are not that.”

As Lantze left indignantly, Sinclair caught the expression on the face of a young technician in the 'pit' and knew without a doubt she was the one who had told Welles about the ship, but it was something that would have to be dealt with later as he had more pressing matters to attend to at that moment.

Like the fact that the Centauri vessel had decided to open fire on the station.

“What the hell are they thinking?” Sheridan asked angrily.

“I don't know, but I'll be damned if we sit here and let them blow us apart,” Sinclair replied in a low voice. “Defence grid, open fire. Target the Centauri ship. Give the Narn cruiser enough time to get through the jumpgate. Tell Zeta wing they are clear to engage.”

He caught Ivanova glancing at Sheridan for confirmation and instead of annoying him, it made him proud because of the respect she was showing the other Captain. Sheridan understood as well, and he nodded once firmly.

“Zeta squadron, escort the Narn ship to jumpgate but if you are fired upon, you are permitted to return fire,” Ivanova ordered.

There was silence as shot after shot rocked the station. The Narn cruiser moved ever closer to the jumpgate with Zeta squadron, and then suddenly, they were through and disappeared from sight. Sheridan was thrown from his feet by one shot which caused a panel to explode, gashing his forehead just above his eye. As Ivanova helped him to his feet, she looked over at Sinclair, who was holding onto his console grimly.

“Disable that goddamn ship,” he ordered, thoroughly pissed off.

Ivanova nodded and set to work. Sheridan stood beside her and seconds later, Sinclair joined them. “Oh no,” Ivanova said quietly.

Sinclair looked at her. “What is it?”

“The engines of the Centauri cruiser are badly damaged.” She turned her head. “They're not going to make it.”

Sheridan punched the console. “Centauri vessel, your ship is heavily damaged. Let us help. Surrender. Let us take on survivors....”

Outside, the Centauri ship didn't respond, just seemed to hang in space for a moment. Then, like an egg cracking, it began to break up, glowing intently along the lines before exploding. The three of them shielded their eyes and when they looked back, there was just debris.

“Send out ships,” Sinclair said. “See if there are any survivors.” He wasn't hopeful.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Well, there's certainly never a dull moment around you two,” Garibaldi said as he walked into the office.

Sheridan looked over from his spot at the desk, leant back in his chair with his feet propped up on the desk. “At least we didn't start a war,” he replied with a shrug.

Garibaldi looked at Sinclair, who was sat on the sofa. “I don't mean to criticise....”

“And yet something tells me you're going to,” Sinclair murmured.

“But couldn't you have done that differently?”

The older Captain leant forward. “What would have had us do, Michael? Had the Narns over for the Centauri to slaughter them mercilessly? Let them blow this station up because they want to throw their weight around and make everyone bow down to them?” He shook his head. “I don't think so.”

Garibaldi held his hands up. “Hey, I agree with what you did, and you know what else? I'm not sorry the Centauri got their butts scragged. But Jeff, there are political consequences, not that I expect you to bother about them as you never have done.” He turned to Sheridan. “But you? Yeah, I'm a little surprised. Besides, this throws a spanner in the works for your little charade.”

“What do you mean?” Sheridan asked.

“No one is going to believe that you two aren't cooperating, not after that. Which means they're going to start paying extra attention to us,” Garibaldi said seriously. “We're going to have to be a lot more careful.”

“We will be, Michael,” Sinclair promised him.

He nodded and took a seat. “So, what's the upshot of what just happened?”

“Lantze accused us of trying to start a war, or at the very least of being 'pro-Narn',” Sinclair said.

“But after quoting the law, saying we were under orders to assist any vessel not in direct conflict with Earthforce, Lantze backed off,” Sheridan continued. “Especially as Welles confirmed that the joint chiefs supported our decision.”

“Great! So why the long faces?”

Sinclair sighed. “Because the Centauri as still trying to stir up trouble. They claim this is still our fault because we didn't inform them straight away that there was a Narn vessel outside.”

“We're being forced to give a formal apology in front of all the ambassadors or they'll replace us. Both of us,” Sheridan said, clearly unimpressed with what was about to happen.

“What about Londo?” Garibaldi started to ask.

Sinclair cut him off. “He's the one who wanted us both court marshalled. He's the one who is insisting on this circus. And _he's_ the one who got the ship blown up!”

Garibaldi was silent for a moment, processing what he had been told. “When's the meeting?”

“Less than an hour, hydroponics,” Sheridan replied.

“I'll get everything organised.” He stood and started to walk out, but paused in the doorway. “Don't make your apology too sincere.”

Sinclair grinned tightly at him. “We weren't planning to.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair started to peel his jacket off as soon as he stepped into his quarters, not even stopping when he registered a second person in there with him. He took his shirt off as well and as he looked for a clean one, he spoke up. “I don't give the whole show without dinner first.”

He was startled when Ivanova's arms wrapped themselves around his bare torso, her face pressing against his back. It seemed to be her favourite way to hug him, not that he minded at all. “I might just hold you to that,” she said, smiling.

“Are you okay?”

Ivanova nodded. “I just wanted to see you before the meeting. What happened....it shouldn't have. But you made the right decision. You and Sheridan. This is a...a....”

“A circus?” Sinclair supplied.

“Exactly.” She let go far enough for him to turn around in her arms and it was only when they were stood face to face that she realised he was half naked and so close to her. And she blushed. “I should.”

Sinclair smiled at her, but found his pulse was racing. “Maybe you should. We don't have a lot of time.”

“Be careful, Jeff. This might be over officially, but unofficially?” Ivanova shook her head. “The Centauri won't let go of this.”

He bent his head and kissed her fiercely. “I'll be careful. Now go and get ready or you'll be late.” He smiled.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Out in hyperspace, Zeta squadron was still escorting the Narn cruiser, and while Keffer would normally have chafed at such a mundane mission, he was thrilled to have the chance to look for neutrino emissions and the 'ghost'. He knew the chances of actually finding anything were slim, but as he wasn't allowed to fly in his own time any more, he wanted to take any opportunity he could.

And then his computer picked something up. A faint neutrino trail. “Stay with the Narn ship, I'm just going to check something out,” Keffer ordered, well aware that Ivanova would have his ass, let alone his wings, if she found out he had abandoned his post. But he _had_ to know what that thing was.

He programmed the computer to start recording and suddenly, there was one of those ships in front of him. Instinctively he fired a homing beacon at it, hoping to be track it later, but then the ship spotted him, turning in hyperspace, screeching.

That was the last thing Lieutenant Warren Keffer saw before he was obliterated.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair walked slowly towards hydroponics, deliberately trying to be late. He had been practising his speech while he had put his dress uniform on, though he was finding it difficult to lose the sarcasm, the pride in his actions, and he imagined Sheridan was having the same problems. But they would put on their diplomatic faces and play the game, for now, at least.

He heard footfalls behind him but didn't pay much attention. Until he noticed the way ahead was blocked by two Centauri, and by the sounds of it, there were at least three more approaching. Sinclair sighed and hoped that what was bound to follow didn't ruin his uniform. Then he would be angry.

“Murderer,” one of the Centauri said to him.

“It was an unfortunate incident,” Sinclair replied calmly.

“You and Sheridan are cold-blooded killers,” another said. “You will pay for what you have done.”

“You know who I am, who Sheridan is. Don't do this.”

“You will not escape our justice.”

He knew the first attack would come from behind him and he wasn't wrong. At the last instant, he spun out of the way, grabbing the Centauri's raised fist and throwing him into the pair in front of him. Another moved in quickly, but Sinclair aimed a kick at his solar plexus, causing him to sink to the ground. Then something heavy hit the Captain across the back, causing him to stumble, and a foot came up to greet his face as he fell. He felt skin split, felt a wetness on his cheek, and his temper snapped.

With a speed that shocked them, Sinclair grabbed the foot of his attacker as he tried to kick him again, twisting it fast enough to break his ankle. The Centauri collapsed to the floor screaming. He aimed an elbow and two fists into the face of another, rendering him unconscious. The other three approached more cautiously now, suddenly aware that their opponent was more deadly than they had anticipated. Sinclair, however, didn't wait for them to attack; he ran at one, tackling him and slamming him into the bulkhead, letting go as he went limp. He turned in time to see the other two rushing him. Pushing off the wall, he engaged them.

The scuffle was brutal. There was no etiquette, no respect; it was life and death, and Sinclair knew which he preferred, for himself and the Centauri. He punched, kicked, elbowed, and headbutted. He used every trick he had learnt from the Rangers, as well as the occasional brawl he found himself involved in when he was at the academy. The Centauri were tough, but he had focus, and finally, he stood over the last of them, holding him by the throat, breathing heavy.

“What are you going to do to Sheridan? Another attack like this?” Sinclair demanded to know.

The Centauri didn't answer, so he twisted his broken fingers. He screamed. “Bomb. Public shuttle. No escape.”

Sinclair hit him so hard he thought he might have broken his neck and bent quickly to check for a pulse. As soon as he found one, he started to run. He should have informed Garibaldi about the attack, but he knew that shining a light on the Centauri who had waylaid him would only cause them more trouble. Besides, he knew that if he left them where they were, they would eventually crawl away and he doubted any of them were stupid enough to press charges against. But instead of contacting his security chief, he was trying to save a life. Sheridan would already be on the train, but maybe he could....

An explosion rocked the station and almost threw Sinclair from his feet. His first instinct was to hit his link to contact Sheridan himself or Ivanova, but he knew that both of them would be busy, in different ways...if Sheridan was still alive.

He skidded into the hydroponics garden in very undignified way to see Sheridan, and everyone else, staring in awe at something which had just disappeared. A quick scan of the crowd told him that Delenn and Kosh were missing and so he could take a wild guess as to what had just happened. He even spotted G'Kar hiding behind a bush and quickly motioned for him to disappeared. Ivanova was stood in front of Sheridan, her hand on his arm, checking he was alright. Sheridan nodded, clearly in awe of something, and then he lifted his gaze and as he saw Sinclair, his expression changed. Ivanova turned immediately and crossed the room quickly towards him.

“What happened?” she asked, horrified.

“I'll tell you later. What happened here?” he replied.

Ivanova smiled, though it was tight. “Well, that's a long story....”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Come.”

Sinclair ducked into Sheridan's quarters, nodding in greeting. “I'm glad to see you're alright.”

“All things considered, I think I actually faired better than you did,” the younger Captain replied, taking in his counterpart's appearance properly for the first time. Back in the hydroponics garden, there hadn't been much time. And then they had been busy 'escorting' Lantze and Welles off the station.

Sinclair smiled. “I'll live.”

“I'm sure you will.” He gestured to a chair. “Drink?”

“Sure.” He eased himself down. “So, how are you?”

“I don't know. I mean, even as I jumped, I knew I was going to be okay,” Sheridan admitted, handing him a glass. “And then...something saved me.”

“Kosh,” Sinclair said.

Sheridan nodded. “But everyone saw something different. Actually, you just missed Delenn. She came to check up on me....” He smiled unconsciously when he said that. “...And she told me that the Vorlons appeared as angels to the younger races they were guiding. And that's why each person in the garden saw something different.”

Sinclair thought back to when he had see Kosh's true form, an insubstantial shape of pure light, and he wondered why that was. “I wish I had been there,” he said wistfully.

“There is a downside.”

“There always is.”

“Delenn said that Kosh's actions may have gained the attention of the Shadows,” Sheridan said grimly.

“But without you, we won't be able to win this war,” Sinclair replied truthfully.

Sheridan accepted what he said with a single nod. “So what exactly happened? The details I've been getting were a little sketchy.”

Sinclair told him about the attack. “Dr Franklin just finished patching me up. He says if I get hit in the head many more times, I could have severe brain damage.”

“Did you not tell him you had that already?” Sheridan asked with a smile.

Sinclair smiled back, then sobered. “There is one other thing. We're missing a fighter.”

The younger Captain's face went pale. “Don't tell me....”

He nodded. “Lieutenant Keffer. Apparently he broke off while in hyperspace with the Narn ship, said he was just going to check something out.”

Sheridan got up and paced, then hit the back of the chair. “Dammit!”

“There's nothing we can do, John.”

“Yes, there is. We can blow these bastards sky high. Wipe them off the face of our galaxy. We can destroy them like they want to destroy us.”

Sinclair stood slowly, shaking his head. “No. We cannot become like them. Sure, we have to defeat them, but destroy them?” He shook his head again.

Sheridan conceded the point and nodded. “Agreed.” Then his expression became concerned. “You look like you're dead on your feet, Jeff. Go back to your quarters. Get some rest.”

“I intend to.”

The two men faced each other, a silent conversation playing out, and then they held out their hands. But instead of shaking palm to palm, they grasped each other's forearms in a warrior's hold. It wasn't simply a respectful gesture, a mutual admiration; they were making a promise to each other, to the people they cared about and the innocents they served. That they would fight the darkness no matter what, with their dying breath if necessary.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova was waiting in Sinclair's quarters when he returned. Wordlessly, she took him by the hand and led him into the bedroom, pulling back the covers. Once settled, she slid in beside him and carefully rested her head over his heart, listening to it beat steadily. She wasn't sure what it was about that sound that she liked so much, but it was a beacon, a focusing point, like no other she had ever encountered. She listened for a while, then moved her head to kiss his jaw tenderly before lying back down. Sinclair held her close to him and kissed her hair. There would be a time for talking later, but right now, they just needed to be together in silence, to assure themselves that no matter what madness was happening outside, at least they still had each other.

TBC


	47. 222 S2-S3 Bridge

_January 2260_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

If the start of the year was anything to go by, Ivanova decided, the rest of it was going to be hell. First, the Earth-Centauri Alliance was officially announced, and she had watched with other crew members during her shift, standing on the command deck and trying not to vomit at Clark's insincere words and weasley face. As she looked around, she tried to note who seemed to agree with him and who looked like they would prefer to see him put his head in the station's fusion reactor. She felt like the time was fast approaching when they would need to know for sure who they could trust and who they couldn't, as the incident with the Narn cruiser and the Centauri battle ship had proved.

Then, later the same day, Garibaldi had told her about a shop keeper being arrested for sedition, his store closed by decree of the Ministry of Peace. Sinclair and Sheridan had been furious, but so far, their protests had been flatly ignored. It was clear that Clark had at least started to realise that his puppet had broken his strings and now, instead of having a stable foothold on Babylon 5, he had manned it with two commanders who were loyal to Earth, not the establishment. There was no way he could ignore the mistake he had made, but how he would rectify it remained to be seen.

Finally, the worst news of all. Ivanova had been relaxing in her quarters while Sinclair took the late shift. And suddenly, his voice had broken through the silence, his tone weary and angry. He had told her to turn on ISN and then cut the comms channel without waiting for a reply. And she had done as he had said.

The last thing she expected to see was a recording of a very alien ship, black as night and ugly as hell, but worse than that was the stamp on the recording.

Keffer, W.

They had continued searching for Keffer after he went missing, though they hadn't held out much hope of finding him. Now it was obvious, at least to them, what had happened. The only problem was that his homing beacon hadn't been found by them; now it was obvious that their enemy knew their existence was no longer a secret, and that meant they wouldn't feel the need to operate in the shadows any longer. It was a double blow for them, losing a colleague and a friend as well as losing their advantage over the enemy, and Ivanova felt it as keenly as Sinclair or Sheridan.

And now, as she sat on the quiet command deck staring outside, she expected Keffer to appear through the jumpgate, pulling off a seemingly miraculous survival much like Sinclair had.

The jumpgate remained closed.

Finally, Ivanova's shift was over and she rushed to her quarters. Usually she lingered, went to the casino to wind down, found something else to do other than go back to her rooms. But not that night. That night was going to be special in more ways that one for her, despite the bad news they had recently received.

It didn't take her long to shower and change, didn't take her long to prepare anything. Then it was just a case of wait. She didn't have to wait long.

As Ivanova let Sinclair into her quarters, she was pleased to note he was once again wearing a skull cap, much like he had when he had attended shiva for her father. She hadn't asked where he had got it from, didn't ask why he had kept it, just appreciated his respect. Sinclair inclined his head to her and while it was clear he just wanted to take her in his arms, he restrained himself. Ivanova smiled and took his hand, leading him to the sofa.

“Sit, please.”

As she began to light the menorah, he spoke up quietly. “Explain to me what this is again.”

Ivanova's smile never left her face. “You know what it is.”

“Yes, but I want you to tell me what it means to you.”

“Hannukah, or Chanukah, is the Festival of Lights,” she explained softly, lighting each candle reverently. “It symbolises victory.”

“Over the conquerors of Jerusalem,” Sinclair said.

Ivanova nodded. “But it's also the victory of those who wanted to uphold traditional values in the face of those wanting to side with the enemy.”

“Very fitting.”

“Which is why I wanted you to be here.”

“I'm honoured.”

Ivanova turned then and came over to him. “So am I. I am...honoured that you have chosen me. I know that sounds stupidly formal, but....”

He covered her hands with him. “I understand what you mean. Now what do we do?”

“Sit quietly and think.”

“Meditate.”

“Basically.” There was silence for a short while but it didn't last. “What's bothering you, Jeff?”

“Am I projecting that loudly?” Sinclair asked.

Ivanova shook her head. “I think it's because of how close we are, and I don't just mean sat here.”

“I feel guilty about what happened to Warren,” he admitted. “I knew he had seen the same ship I had when we were rescuing the Cortez, but I didn't realise he would be so curious about it. I should have known, though. I should have talked with him, trusted him. Maybe he'd still be alive if I had have done.”

Ivanova cupped Sinclair's jaw. “It wasn't your fault, and even if it was, it won't bring him back.”

“I know. It's just that the year before we almost lost Michael. Last year we lost Warren and we almost lost John,” Sinclair said, shaking his head. Ivanova noticed how he used Sheridan's first name more casually now and it made her smile. “I can't help but think who we'll lose at the end of this year.”

“Hopefully no one.” She settled down against his chest.

“Susan, I have to ask. When Kosh rescued Sheridan, what did you see?”

“I saw an angel.”

Sinclair heard some hesitation in her voice. “Anything else?” he asked.

Ivanova sat up and stretched to the other side of the sofa, putting her feet into his lap. It was a natural act, showing just how comfortable they were with each other. “I thought I saw someone, or something else. It wasn't human, it was.... I think it was Minbari.”

“Interesting,” he murmured.

She smiled. “And you missed it.”

“I'm just glad Sheridan is okay,” Sinclair said sincerely.

“So am I. Has there been any news about Na'toth?”

He shook his head. “Not that I've heard, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything.”

“True. I hope she's okay. She was...abrasive, to say the least, but she was loyal to G'Kar and I think he could do with that support right now.” Ivanova tilted her head and regarded Sinclair for a long time.

“What?” he asked, amused.

“Tell me a story.”

“A story?”

She nodded. “Anything at all. I just like listening to your voice.”

He smiled warmly. “Well, one day....”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan heard the chimes and said, “Come,” in a distracted tone. Until Delenn appeared in front of him, and then all his attention was on her. No matter what he was doing, no matter what he had been thinking, she had that effect on him. It was more than just respect between them, possibly more than friendship. But he still wasn't ready to put a name to it. Still didn't know if he ever would be.

“I came to see how you were,” Delenn said softly.

Sheridan shouldn't have been surprised; she had visited him daily since he had almost died. But he was. He was surprised that this woman, who was part of a race who had tried to exterminate humans, cared about him so much. “I'm fine, Delenn,” he replied with a smile.

“You have not been the same since....”

“Would you be?” he asked softly.

Delenn regarded him. “I suppose not. But there is something else on your mind.”

Sheridan looked at her for a moment and realised that if there was one person on the station he could actually talk to about this, it was Delenn. “Would you like a drink?”

“Thank you.”

He poured them each a drink and then gestured to the sofa. “Please.” They sat down together, close but not touching. “I find myself in a dilemma, and maybe you can help me with it. Jeff and Susan...I know they're close, closer than friends, and while I don't necessarily have a problem with that, we do have regulations we have to abide by as part of the military. And if they are...engaged in a relationship, I'm duty bound to report them. But I don't want to. I thought I did. A few months ago, I spoke with Sinclair about it and told him I'd turn a blind eye for the time being because we have so much else going on. But I said that if I felt I needed to, I would step in between them in the future. And you know what? Sinclair just accepted it without argument, which made me wonder if they were just friends.” He smiled and shook his head. “But I've seen the way they look at each when they think no one's looking. I've seen the way they are together. If they're not together, then they damn well ought to be.”

Delenn was smiling fondly at him. “Do you always contradict yourself so much?” she asked in a teasing tone. “One moment you are saying you are going to report them, the next you are saying they should be together. Which one is it?”

Sheridan gave a short laugh. “Dammit, Delenn, I don't know! On the one hand, we have the rules that we're supposed to follow, and that means that what they're doing is illegal. On the other hand...on the other hand, they're my friends and I want them to be happy.”

Delenn put her hand on his arm. “There, was that so difficult to admit?”

“Yes,” Sheridan grumbled.

“John, sometimes you have to ignore the rules and follow your instincts,” she said seriously. “If Jeff and Susan are meant to be together, you should try to simply accept. Destiny will always find a way to reassert itself no matter how many times you try to stop it.” She turned away. “I have known them both for some time now, and I know them well. Their duty is of utmost importance to them and they would never jeopardise that or compromise their loyalty to Earth with personal matters.” She looked back at him. “And in your heart, you know this.”

Sheridan wanted to argue out of principle, but he decided it wasn't worth the effort; Delenn would win. She always did. Instead he just laughed and shook his head again. “Alright, I give in. You gave a persuasive argument,” he said, smiling. Only then did she remove her hand from his arm. “Now, what should we talk about?”

“The weather,” Delenn suggested, also smiling.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Garibaldi stood with his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth slightly on his feet. He nodded and exchanged greetings with a few people, but his eyes were seeking out one in particular. And eventually, there he was.

“Chief.”

“Lou. You all packed? Ready to go?”

“Yeah to the first, not sure about the second.” Welch took a long lingering look around. “I'm gonna miss this place.”

“You can always come back and visit,” Garibaldi said. “You know where we are.”

“Yeah. Don't think I'll get much time for that.”

“Come on, I'll walk you to your ship.” The two men set off slowly. “You sure about this, Lou? It's what you want?”

“Chief, we've talked about this. It's my choice,” Welch replied.

“I know, but....”

“Look, if this helps you out, then I'll do it. And maybe it'll help me as well.”

“I hope so, Lou, I really do.” They stopped in the middle of the docking area. “I don't know what I'm going to do without you,” Garibaldi admitted.

Welch laughed. “You'll be fine, Chief. Besides, Zack's shaping up pretty good. Apart from the Nightwatch thing.”

“You might have to join, you know,” Garibaldi warned him.

“I know, and I'm ready for it. Just because I wear the band doesn't mean I have to agree with them,” Welch said.

“But you'll have to report to them. A lot of innocent people could get hurt.”

“Chief, don't worry about me. I'm a big boy, I can take care of myself.” Welch listened as an announcement was made. “That's me.”

The two men shook hands firmly, lingering. “Take care, Lou. Watch your back.”

Welch clapped Garibaldi on the shoulder. “You too, Chief.” He gave one last long fond look around the station. “Take care of her.” And then he was gone.

Garibaldi sighed and walked away. He wasn't particularly sentimental, but he did hate saying goodbye. And while the promotion was good for Welch – and his placement on the President's personal guard was good for them – he was going to miss him. He didn't have so many friends that he could afford to lose one, under any circumstances.

Then he saw a familiar figure heading towards him, and he realised there was another friend he had lost, in a different way. Garibaldi's eyes locked with Londo's for what seemed like a small eternity. The Centauri's expression softened and changed, like he was looking for a second chance, like he had hope that they still shared a bond despite everything. And while the security chief would have liked to have given it to him, he couldn't. Not after almost blowing up the station, and killing both Captains. There were some things Garibaldi could not forgive, or forget. He held Londo's gaze for a second longer, made sure the Centauri ambassador understood the silence, and then, very deliberately, he turned and walked in the opposite direction.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair looked up as Garibaldi entered the mess hall. “Morning, Chief. Everything okay?”

“Just said goodbye to Lou,” he replied.

Ivanova put her hand on his arm and gave him a smile as he sat down. “He'll be fine. And so will you.”

“We're still here,” Sheridan told him.

Garibaldi nodded. “You're right. I'm doomed.”

Sinclair laughed. “Did you bring Stephen?”

The security chief frowned. “I thought he'd already been here.”

“We haven't seen him,” Sheridan said.

“Something probably came up, you know how he is,” Ivanova replied.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

In the darkened med lab, Franklin ran a hand wearily over his face, absently noticing the stubble on his chin. The computer informed him of the time but it didn't really mean anything to him, just like he knew he should meet the others for a meal but didn't have the strength or the energy to get up out of the chair. He just wanted to sleep, but couldn't.

There was a way, though.

He opened the drawer of his desk and stared for a long time at the vial, then shut it again angrily. He did _not_ have a problem, an addiction. He had it all under control. He didn't need the stims, he just needed to sleep.

It didn't matter that two days ago, there had been more vials in the drawer. It didn't matter than he had been pushing himself much harder than he actually needed to. None of that matter at all. Because he had it under control.

Franklin yanked the drawer open and grabbed the vial, but just sat holding it in his hand. Then he stood and pocketed it. He wasn't going to use it, he was just going to go back to his quarters and sleep. He just didn't want anyone else to find it and jump to conclusions.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“So,” Garibaldi said halfway through his meal. “Let's talk about the explosion.”

Sheridan pulled a face. “Let's not.”

“We have to, John,” Sinclair said. “There are just too many unanswered questions over the whole thing.”

“Like why the Centauri had a bomb, how they got it on the station in the first place, and who were they answering to?” Garibaldi shook his head. “Too many things about it don't add up.”

“Do you think Sheridan was the target all along? That this was planned?” Ivanova asked, frowning.

“I think maybe the Centauri were hoping both Captains would be on that train.”

Sinclair sat back in his chair, his coffee mug in his hand. “That would make sense.”

“But if that's the case, then it means this was definitely planned,” Sheridan said.

Garibaldi looked thoughtful. “Not necessarily.”

“What do you mean?”

He leant forwards. “Do you remember a couple of months ago when we had that ISN crew on the station?”

Both Captains all but growled. “I'd take that as a yes,” Ivanova said.

“And we found that the Centauri were actually using Babylon 5 to run arms.”

“You think that they still are?” Sheridan asked.

“Either that or we didn't think to check if they had any stored here,” Sinclair said grimly. “And now we can't address that problem without attracting a lot of unwanted attention.”

Ivanova looked at him. “Like you're always saying, there's a way around everything. I'm sure something will come up.”

“As long as it isn't another bomb,” Sheridan said.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair was just going through his warm up routine when he heard someone approaching, and he knew from the sound that it wasn't a usual visitor. Quickly he concealed himself and waited, coiled like a snake waiting to strike. A man waited into the area and stood in the centre of the room, turning a slow three-sixty as he took everything in. As soon as his eyes swept passed Sinclair, he jumped from his hiding place, swept the man's feet from underneath him and pinned him to the floor with his knee in his throat.

“I want to train with the Rangers,” the man said, his voice rasping because of the pressure on his voice box.

“Then here's your first lesson; never sneak up on one of us, especially me, unless that's the training we're doing.” Sinclair slowly lifted his knee, then hauled the man to feet.

Sheridan massaged his throat and glared. “You hit hard. And you don't fight fair.”

Sinclair knocked him swiftly on his back again. “This isn't a dance, Sheridan; this is war. There is no 'fair'. There is just us to stand against the darkness. Training will not be easy, it will not be fun. So if you're just going to lie there and whine, leave now.”

Sheridan pushed himself slowly to his feet and then surprised Sinclair by tackling him, but instead of trying to push him to the ground, he attempted to lift him up. He almost succeeded as well, but while Sinclair was slimmer than Sheridan, he was carrying more muscle and had endured more rigorous training. Swinging his legs as hard as he could, he pulled the younger Captain off balance, causing them both to crash to the floor, but he rolled away quickly and was on his feet first.

“You can't attack when you're angry, John,” Sinclair said calmly. “You can feel that rage, use it to fuel you, but never act upon it. The moment you do, you lose your focus. And if you lose your focus, you'll be dead.”

They sparred for a while and Sheridan would never know just how easy Sinclair went on him, far easier than any of the other new Rangers were treated. After a couple of hours, Ivanova sidled quietly into the room, Sinclair more acutely aware of her presence than ever before.

“Yes, Commander?” he asked. Sheridan was surprised at his formality, his tone, but was too winded to say anything.

“I'm sorry to disturb you during training, Captain, but I wanted to let you both know that there will be a VIP arriving shortly on the station,” Ivanova replied.

And then Sheridan understood, wondered if it was part of his training. The dynamics in the Rangers were different than Earthforce in some ways; their relationships in that room were different too. Sinclair wasn't just their leader, he was their inspiration, their guiding light. The respect the Rangers held for him in this role was overwhelming; in here, he was Entil'zha, Ranger One. And that was part of Sheridan's problem, trying to reconcile the two roles Sinclair occupied. As Captain, they were equals, but as Entil'zha, he was above everyone.

“Well, that's a good start,” Sinclair said, having been watching Sheridan carefully. He extended his hand.

Sheridan eyed it warily. “Every time I take it, I end up back on my ass,” he stated in a respectful tone. “But...maybe I deserve it.” He let Sinclair pull him up. “Thank you.”

“You did well, John,” Sinclair praised him. Then he turned and smiled at Ivanova, and instantly, he was Jeff again. “So, a VIP?”

Ivanova smiled back. “Yes, sir.”

“How long do we have?”

She looked at them critically. “Long enough for you both to shower and changed.”

Both men saluted. “VIPs,” Sheridan grumbled. “I'm fed up of unannounced VIPs just showing up when they feel like it.”

“Something else we agree on,” Sinclair said.

TBC


	48. 301 Matters of Honor

_January 2260_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“How are the repairs coming along?” Sheridan asked Ivanova as they walked towards the docking bay.

“Well. I'm hoping they should be finished by the end of this week,” she replied.

“Good.” Sheridan rolled his neck and winced.

Ivanova looked at him sympathetically. “It'll be worse tomorrow.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded. “Or if you're really lucky, the day after that.”

“Thanks.” Sheridan rolled his neck a few more times, then looked at her sideways.

“Whatever it is, ask, or I'll get cranky with you,” Ivanova said after a length silence.

“I was just wondering if Sinclair is that tough on everyone.”

“You mean on me.”

Sheridan shrugged. “Is he?”

“No,” Ivanova replied honestly. But before the Captain could say anything, she continued. “He's tougher.”

“What?”

Ivanova sighed. “Sinclair was going easy on you, John,” she told him, quietly, seriously. “He's never done that with anyone else before. And I wouldn't expect it to last.”

“I don't need him to 'take it easy' on me,” Sheridan snapped irritably.

Ivanova remained calm. “It isn't because he doesn't think you can handle it; it's because he respects you. He wants to make sure you're ready before pushing you too far. Because if something happens to you, he wouldn't be able to do what he has to do. If there are...missions that he needs to go on, he needs you here on the station.”

“He has you,” Sheridan pointed out, but she shook her head.

“I can do a lot of things, sure. But I can't run this station forever. And I can't make the hard decision; that's what the rank of Captain is for.”

He was quiet as he mulled over her words, and she could see his thinking shifting gears. “Did I mention that I was getting tired of unannounced visits by VIPs from Earth?” he asked after a while.

Ivanova smiled. “Yes, you did.”

“We're never given enough information, they just turn up whenever they feel like it and expect us to drop everything to babysit them.”

Ivanova wisely remained silent. She had heard this complaint several times in the last hour, since she had interrupted Sinclair and Sheridan's training session, and although she agreed with him, she wished he would stop talking about it now. “Have you spoken to Ambassador Kosh?” she asked, hoping to knock him off his soapbox before he got started properly.

Sheridan nodded. “He's alright, he went back to his ship to rest. Apparently it was a great strain being seen by so many people.”

“Did he say why he saved you?” At his stare, Ivanova clarified, “I meant why did he take the risk? I thought he was supposed to be hiding.”

“He said it was necessary, and that was all he said.” As people started to file through the area, Sheridan scanned their faces for the VIP. Though he didn't know what he looked like, he knew he would be able to spot the man by the way he carried himself. “Did you have any luck tracking the bomb that was used?” he asked quietly.

Ivanova shook her head. “Garibaldi was all over it, but if the Centauri _are_ bringing weapons through here, he can't figure out how they're doing it.”

“I'll bet that makes him happy.”

“Incredibly so.”

“Captain Sheridan?”

Both officers immediately shifted gears, plastering smiles on their faces that said they were happy to help in any way they could. “Yes.”

“My name is David Endawi,” he said, shaking hands. “I'm sorry for the unexpected visit, Captain. This assignment was as much a surprised to me as it is to you.”

Sheridan just nodded. “This is our second-in-command, Commander Ivanova.”

If Endawi noticed the slight emphasis on 'our', he didn't show it as he shook her hand. “Commander. Captain, I wonder if there's somewhere private we can go so I can tell you why I'm here. And I would like Captain Sinclair to be present, of course.”

“Of course. Commander?” Sheridan looked at Ivanova, who nodded and raised her link.

“And Ambassador Delenn,” Endawi added.

Both officers hesitated slightly; both shared a look as Endawi was preoccupied with gazing at his surroundings. “Of course,” Sheridan repeated, his smile firmly in place. “If you'll follow me.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Captain.”

“Ambassador,” Sinclair greeted her, somewhat surprised. As they walked together, he turned to her. “Are you...?”

“It seems my presence has also been requested,” Delenn said, answering his question before he could ask it properly.

“I wonder why.”

“I'm sure we will find out soon enough.” She smiled at him, but it was a tight expression. “How is the training coming along?”

“You mean in general or Sheridan specifically?” he asked

“Both.”

“Generally we're doing well, though I really think we should start to include other races. I know that means the Rangers won't be as secret as we had hoped, but I think it's time we brought them out into the open.”

“I agree.”

Sinclair smiled. “Let's run it by Sheridan when we can. As for his training, we only started today. He has much to learn.”

“It will be difficult for him to take orders from you,” Delenn guessed.

“Yes. But he's a soldier, he knows how to follow them.”

Delenn looked closely at him. “He will follow _you_ ,” she stated. “Not just as Entil'zha, but as Captain.”

Sinclair stopped. “What do you mean?”

“You may be equals, but in the end, it will be John who will follow you more than you will follow him,” Delenn said.

“Why?” Sinclair asked.

“Because he is starting to believe, like we all believe. In you.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“What have we got, Zack?” Garibaldi asked as he entered the docking bay.

“Ship came through the jumpgate a little while ago, Chief,” Zack explained. “Seems the pilot put all the energy into the engines, including that from life support. He was unconscious when he arrived.”

“But alive?”

“For now, Chief.”

Garibaldi looked up as a guerney with a body on it came towards them, and he was reminded of the last time this had happened, not too long ago. When Lyta Alexander had appeared, the last thing he or any of the others had expected was that they would lose Talia in such a fashion. As the guerney neared, Garibaldi could make out a young bearded face, but it was his clothes that caught his attention. He knew that uniform.

“Search the ship, Zack, and if you find anything, tell only myself or Captain Sinclair, understood?” Garibaldi said firmly.

Zack nodded dutifully. “Yes, sir.”

The security chief silently trailed the medical team and after talking briefly with Franklin, he took one last look at the man before heading towards his office. “Garibaldi to C&C, is Captain Sinclair there?”

 _“No, Mr Garibaldi, he's in a meeting with Captain Sheridan, Commander Ivanova, Ambassador Delenn and a VIP from Earth,”_ came the reply.

He sat quietly for a moment, a frown creasing his face as he wondered what was going on now. “Alright, as soon as you can, give him a message from me. Tell him I've got that report he wanted on the Lone Ranger.” He forced a smile into his voice. “It's an old Earth reference, don't worry, he'll understand it.”

_“Yes, sir.”_

“Thanks.”

_“Franklin to Garibaldi.”_

“What's up, Doc?”

 _“That patient you brought in? He's gone,”_ Franklin replied, sounding agitated.

Garibaldi stopped swivelling in his chair and stared at the war. “What do you mean, gone?”

_“I mean I turned around not long after you had left and the bed was empty.”_

“I thought he was unconscious.”

 _“Apparently not,”_ Franklin said, his patience starting to wear thin. _“And now he's your responsibility.”_

“Yeah, thanks, Doc,” Garibaldi replied sourly. He cut the comms link and sat back in his chair, not particularly liking how things were shaping up. “There's always something.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Even without her latent telepathic ability, even if she wasn't as close to Sinclair as she was, Ivanova would have had to be blind not to notice how tense he was in Endawi's presence, though it was more the nature of the visit than the man's presence. Keffer's death still weighed heavily on Sinclair more than Sheridan, and the fact that his homing beacon had been picked up by ISN just made matters worse. And now Endawi was asking questions about the Shadows. Sinclair, Ivanova and Sheridan all insisted they had never seen the ship before, which was mostly true but not entirely. Delenn said the same, which Endawi accepted without question. He then said about questioning the other ambassadors, to see what level of threat the ship posed, and Ivanova escorted him out.

The minute they were alone, Sheridan turned to Sinclair, who looked pale. “You've seen one of these before,” he said.

Sinclair nodded. “When we rescued the Cortez...that was the ship I followed.” He then turned to Delenn. “It's a Shadow vessel, isn't it?”

She nodded. “But I did not lie. I have never actually _seen_ one before now. But I know of them. They are relentless and invincible.”

“I don't believe that,” Sheridan said stubbornly. “Every thing has a weakness. We just have to find it.”

Delenn smiled sadly at him. “When you see what they can do, you will think otherwise.” She looked back at the screen. “Take a good look, John, Jeff. That is the face of our enemy.”

Sinclair stared, his memory taking him back several months to his near-death experience in hyperspace, how one of those ships had almost killed him, but had also inadvertently saved his life. He could see the same ship turning on Keffer, destroying him without a second thought. He knew what the enemy looked like, he had seen what they could do.

But what he didn't tell Sheridan or Delenn, what he hadn't told anyone else before, save the person who was with him at the time, was that he had seen those ships before.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair was subdued as he left the office, Sheridan and Delenn staying behind to discuss things. As he walked on to the command deck, Corwin caught his eye and walked up to him. “Captain, you have a message from Mr Garibaldi. He said he has that report you've been waiting for on the Lone Ranger.”

Sinclair stared nonplussed for a moment, then forced a smile. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

If Corwin noticed anything strange about the Captain's behaviour, he didn't show it. Instead, he quickly rushed off, arriving in Garibaldi's office a short time later.

“What is it, Chief?”

“We had a ship come through the 'gate, pilot was unconscious, took him to med lab.” Garibaldi paused. “He was dressed in a Ranger uniform.”

“Is he okay?” Sinclair asked, concerned.

“That I don't know.” At the Captain's confused expression, he continued. “Apparently he wasn't as unconscious as we thought. He's disappeared.”

Sinclair put his hands in his pockets and stared at the wall. “What did he look like?”

“Young-ish, dark hair, beard,” Garibaldi replied.

“Marcus,” the Captain murmured. “Alright, Chief, I'll take care of it.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

The fact that the existence of the Shadows was now public knowledge bothered Delenn greatly. She felt like they had lost their advantage and that defeat was almost inevitable now. In her preoccupation, she didn't see Lennier waiting for her.

“Delenn!” The young Minbari hurried up to her. “There is someone who wishes to speak to you.”

“I am too busy, Lennier. If they wish to make an appointment....”

“He asked me to show you this.” He handed her a badge.

“You should listen to him, Delenn. This is important.”

Both Minbari looked up to Sinclair walking towards them, dressed in civilian clothing. “What do you know of this matter, Captain?” Delenn asked curiously.

He smiled. “Did you really think a Ranger could get onto the station without my knowledge?” Sinclair turned serious. “I know who it is and if he is here, it can only mean one thing. Trouble. We must meet him, now.”

“What about Captain Sheridan?”

“He's busy with our VIP, and besides, three of us would look suspicious.”

“I will accompany you,” Lennier said, choosing to ignore Sinclair's words.

But Delenn shook her head, smiled and laid a hand on his arm. “No, Lennier. Jeff is right. We can take care of this ourselves.”

Lennier started to object, but Sinclair cut across him. “I trust this Ranger. And if anything should happen, I will protect Delenn.”

“Yes, Entil'zha,” Lennier replied unhappily, bowing.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova entered the office with a slight frown on her face. “You wanted to see me, Captain?”

Sheridan looked up. “Yes, I did. I think we may have a problem.”

She smiled. “What else is new?”

He inclined his head, conceding the point. “We all know what that ship was, and we know what it means. What we don't want is for Endawi to find out what we know, or how much we know. We still want to try and keep things as quiet as possible.”

“Agreed, but it won't be easy. We can't control what the other ambassadors say.” Ivanova stared at the expression on Sheridan's face. “Can we?”

“It wouldn't do any harm to...explain to the ambassadors that Mr Endawi is more interested in folklore than any hard evidence regarding this mysterious ship,” he said, trying not to smile. “Of course, you don't have to say it exactly like that. Just...be creative in your diplomatic skills, Commander.” Now he did beam.

“Me?” Ivanova asked, her eyes wide. “Why me?”

“You need the practice,” Sheridan replied blandly.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Delenn stayed close to Sinclair as they entered the tavern in Downbelow, even though she had the hood of her cloak pulled down over her face so no one could see her. But she felt vulnerable here and did not like it at all. Sinclair, however, moved with quiet confidence; not an arrogant swagger that would draw attention, but with a purpose which made people wary of him. As soon as they sat down, a man came over with two drinks.

“We are waiting for someone,” Delenn said quickly, her eyes constantly scanning the room.

“And we should drink to avoid drawing attention to ourselves,” Sinclair replied quietly, then smiled at the man. “Thank you, Marcus.”

Marcus blinked in surprise. “How do you know me?” he asked in a cultured British voice. Sinclair pushed the hood of his cloak back, revealing his face, before pulling back and pushing himself into shadow once more. “I am sorry, Entil'zha. I should have realised.”

Sinclair waved the apology away, but then he realised Marcus didn't have a drink. As Delenn raised the glass to her lips, he took it from her. “Necessary precaution,” he said, sipping it. He waited for a moment, then nodded. “It's safe.”

Marcus didn't even look affronted. “Of course it is. I know well the effect that alcohol has on Minbari.”

Sinclair's expression turned serious and he leant forward on the table. “Why are you here, Marcus? What's happened?”

“I need your help, Entil'zha,” he admitted. “But we should probably discuss this in private. If you'll follow me.”

Out in the corridor, however, they were ambushed by thugs who were fully intent on mugging them. Marcus quickly took out his fighting pike and engaged them, but was surprised when Sinclair waded in with his fists, elbows, knees and feet, punching and kicking like he was engaged in a bar room brawl, and he was forced to remember that Ranger One was also an Earthforce Captain; his fighting style was 'unique' to say the least, and not easily replicable, but extremely effective. He was about to offer up his own pike when he saw something out of the corner of his eye, and looking, he saw Delenn with a fighting pike, beating the hell out of the bad guys.

“I'm impressed,” Marcus said to her as the last thug fell.

Delenn grinned at him, balancing the pike in her hands. “One does not help lead the Rangers for no good reason.”

“If you two have finished,” Sinclair said tersely. “We should get out of here.” He pulled his link from his pocket as they walked and slapped it to the back of his hand, tapping it as he did so. “Sinclair to Garibaldi, Lone Ranger report was incomplete. Staff meeting in twenty, my office.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“This is your idea of keeping things quiet?” Ivanova asked Sheridan as she walked into the office to find it full.

Sheridan shook his head. “Not my idea. His.” He pointed to Sinclair, who was still in civilian clothing.

“If I'd known it was such a well known secret, I'd have just walked in the front door,” Marcus said dryly.

“It wasn't exactly planned,” Sinclair explained almost apologetically. “It just happened this way.” He went around the room making introductions. “Marcus is from Zagros VII, a Drazi world where we have a Ranger training camp. We created there partly for safety and partly because...certain Minbari are uncomfortable with the Rangers.”

“Not the Rangers,” Delenn corrected him respectfully. “The idea that humans and other races may become Rangers.”

Sinclair inclined his head. “Marcus has been doing excellent work from there,” he continued, and Ivanova could tell from the pride shining through in his voice that this Ranger was one of his favourites. Sinclair may have been many different things, but deep down he was still a man; he still had his favourite people. “Marcus, why don't you tell us why you're here now?”

There was an undertone of steel in his voice, a challenge almost, and the Ranger swallowed. “Two weeks ago, the Centauri blockaded the planet.”

“They've been aggressively expanding, under the pretense of creating a buffer zone,” Garibaldi said with a shrug. “The Drazi and the Pak'ma'ra have both been suffering. I can't say I'm surprised they've blockaded a planet.”

“Yes, but I believe that the Ranger camp is actually the target,” Marcus replied.

A heavy silence fell over the room. “If the Centauri are aware of the Rangers,” Delenn started, her expression bordering on horrified.

“Then their 'associates' will as well,” Sheridan finished grimly. He looked at Sinclair. “We have to evacuate them.”

Garibaldi's eyes widened. “We don't have the resources. We'd need a powerful warship, not to mention a crew, and let's not forget the tiny issue of the Earth-Centauri non-aggression treaty that's in place.”

“I didn't sign it,” Sinclair said forcefully. “And I will not abandon the Rangers, Michael.”

Marcus stepped forwards. “We have the means to escape...if you have the will to help us.” He looked from one face to the other.

“We still have Endawi on board,” Ivanova pointed out.

Sinclair and Sheridan both nodded, though they were staring at each other. Eventually, the older Captain beckoned Ivanova and the three of them moved off to a corner of the office. “I'm going,” he said firmly.

“One of us should go,” Sheridan agreed.

“No, _I'm_ going. You and Garibaldi can handle Endawi. Ivanova, you're coming with me.”

Sheridan was about to protest when he realised it wasn't Captain Sinclair giving an order, but the Entil'zha, and so he inclined his head. “Alright. But be careful.”

The two men shook hands and they returned to the others. “Delenn, have Mr Lennier meet us in the docking bay. Garibaldi, stay and help Sheridan with containment,” Sinclair said. “Let's go.”

“Why is Lennier coming with us?” Ivanova asked as she fell in beside him, Delenn and Marcus behind.

“We need a believable excuse for us to be off the station, and what better one to use than the Minbari needed our help?” he replied with a smile. “And if that's the case, the aide to the ambassador would almost certainly have to come along.”

Ivanova was silent for a while, then she sighed.

“What is it?” Sinclair asked.

“I still have a lot to learn,” she replied simply.

He stared at her until she looked at him, then gave her the smile he reserved especially for her. “You'll get there, in time, and when you do, you'll be better than me and Sheridan put together. You'll be better than all of us.” His smile softened, deepened. “You'll be a General one day, Susan. I can see it as clearly as I can see the stars.”

Behind them, Delenn watched their interaction and smiled to herself. She had been right when she had told Sheridan that to try and interfere with their relationship would be pointless. If any two people were meant to be together, it was Sinclair and Ivanova.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

It wasn't supposed to happen that way. Refa wasn't supposed to take his place. And Londo realised that even though he was severing his ties with Morden, the Centauri would not be ending their association with the Shadows. And Refa...Refa had no clue as to what he was getting himself into. He had no idea how powerful Morden was, or the danger he was putting himself in by associating with him. But Londo knew. He had always thought himself in control of his own life, his destiny...of any situation, really. But now...now he could see that wasn't true. The way Morden spoke to him, the way they carved up the galaxy together, and the chilling assertion that there was no guarantee Morden and his associates wouldn't turn round at any point and attack the Centauri, or Londo in particular, made the ambassador realise just how deeply he was involved in this mess.

But one thing in particular needled him. Nothing of consequence to anyone else, just a world on the edge of Centauri space, one that Morden's associates wanted for no reason apparently, but Londo wasn't fooled. A fool he may have been, but he still prided himself on knowing what others did not. And while he was certain Refa would – and had – given Morden what he wanted without question or curiosity, but Londo wasn't like that. He had heard rumours, talk and whispers, about a secret organisation, an army, made up of Minbari and humans, if such a thing could be believed.

And the planet Morden's associates wanted just so happened to contain a camp of these warriors. If such things were to be believed. 

And as Londo no longer believed in coincidence, if he ever did at all, he knew that there was a connection. But what could he do? He had no way of contacting these soldiers, no way of alerting them to what was going on. And even if he could, would he? Would he risk unleashing the wrath of Morden's associates upon himself and his people?

Londo didn't know. He had always thought of himself as honourable, but now he could see that wasn't true. And like the coward he had become, he sat in his quarters quietly and let events unfold as they would.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova turned to look at Sinclair, unnerved by his silence and single-mindedness. She had always known he took his role as leader to the Rangers seriously, but only now was she beginning to see just how much he cared for them. She wasn't surprised, really; she had seen the same dedication towards the crew on the station. But this fierce protectiveness was something else, though she thought she knew why. Though there were a great deal of similarities between Earthforce and the Rangers – both fighting for what they believed in – the Rangers were volunteers, and they were ready to die not just for the cause, but for Sinclair.

“They'll be fine,” Ivanova reassured him. “We'll get there in time and we'll get them all out.”

Sinclair turned and acknowledged her for the first time since they set foot on the shuttle. “Optimism, Susan? From you?”

Even though his teasing tone was weak, Ivanova felt better upon hearing it. She was worried that he would one day lose himself in the faces he was forced to wear; that one day he would no longer be Jeff Sinclair. “Maybe I'm turning over a new leaf,” she suggested.

He finally smiled. “Not too much of one, I hope. Your cynicism helps to keep me grounded.”

“In that case, Captain, I will try to be as cynical as possible for you.”

Both fell silent as they came out of hyperspace, and Ivanova, who happened to be looking at him at the time, would never forget the expression on Sinclair's face. “What is _that_?” he exclaimed in astonishment.

 _“That, Captain, is the White Star,”_ Delenn's voice came over the comms. _“And she's yours.”_

Sinclair could only stare, speechless at the strange and magnificent ship in front of them. Ivanova was similarly entranced, but then another thought came to her head and she closed her eyes. “Captain Sheridan is going to be _extremely_ jealous.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“So, have you heard from them yet?” Garibaldi asked Sheridan as they walked through the corridors of the station.

Sheridan shook his head. “But I didn't really expect to. I'm sure they'll be fine.”

“Don't you wish you were out there with them, though?”

“Not really.” At Garibaldi's incredulous expression, the Captain smiled. “Sinclair ordered, I obeyed. That's the way this goes, remember?”

“So, any idea how they plan to pull this rescue off?” Garibaldi asked after a while.

“What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?” Sheridan retorted.

The security chief held his hands up. “It's my job to ask questions.” His focus shifted. “Speaking of which, it's show time.”

Sheridan turned casually to see Endawi walking up to them. “Captain Sheridan, I have just heard that Captain Sinclair and Commander Ivanova have left the station suddenly. Is there a problem I should know about?”

“I wouldn't know about that.”

Endawi stared at him. “Are you telling me you don't know where they went?”

“No, I don't,” Sheridan replied.

“But you are the Captain of Babylon 5.”

“As is Captain Sinclair and in the interests of security, we don't always tell each other everything. We don't even tell ourselves everything, it makes life so much simpler.”

Endawi didn't look convinced, and he shifted his gaze to Garibaldi. “Do you know where they are, Mr Garibaldi?”

“Like the Captain said, we don't tell each other everything, or even ourselves everything, and that's especially true in my case because it's my job to keep secrets, which is what I do, even from myself. It comes in very handy sometimes.”

“Such as?”

“Well, I know you need to speak to G'Kar but you can't because of the Centauri-Earth treaty. But if you were to do it unofficially, no one would know because we wouldn't tell each other and we wouldn't even tell ourselves, would we, Captain?” Garibaldi asked.

Sheridan shook his head. “Absolutely not, Chief.”

Garibaldi looked back to Endawi. “See? Useful sometimes.”

Endawi allowed himself a smile. “In that case, I will go and do that now.”

The two men waited until he was out of sight, then sighed in relief. “Did we just get away with that?” Garibaldi asked.

“Be grateful, Michael,” Sheridan said seriously. “We're not out of the woods yet.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova was tempted to make a smart remark about Sinclair drooling over the White Star as Delenn showed them around, but she didn't want to embarrass the Minbari too much. It was a particularly impressive looking ship, she had to admit; part Minbari, part Vorlon technology, and looking just different enough that it wouldn't be identified with either race, and definitely not with the humans. She really wanted to see how the ship handled, though, but more than that she wanted to see Sheridan's face when they returned and explained how they managed to pull off the mission.

When they reached the bridge, Lennier offered to act as interpretor, and while his manner was respectful, Ivanova detected something else beneath the surface, some hostility directed at Sinclair, which surprised her. There was also a deeper feeling she couldn't quite put her finger on, but no one else seemed to notice his behaviour and she wondered if it was just her. Sinclair gave the orders, and afterwards, his eyes locked with her and she knew then that it wasn't just her imagination, and it was clear that Lennier's attitude had been noted before.

The journey to Zagros VII was smooth and fast. Ivanova took the time to talk to Marcus, as he was obviously important to Sinclair, and was surprised to find she actually liked him. It didn't happen very often on first meetings, but there was something very open and honest about him that she found refreshing, and she admired his dedication to the cause as well, a discipline she could appreciate and understand. He was a warrior, yet not a soldier, and if she was completely honest with herself, he intrigued her.

“You do not need to worry, Jeff,” Delenn said, startling him. “She will never stray far from you.”

Sinclair had the good grace to look slightly abashed. He had been watching – covertly, he had thought - Ivanova talking to Marcus, had noticed the way she smiled at him, but also the way he looked at her. And yes, he felt jealous, though he knew he had no need to. But for the first time, Sinclair realised the age difference between him and Ivanova; twelve years was a long time to many people.

“Age is irrelevant.”

Sinclair turned and gave Delenn a very special look that was half-glare, half-eye rolling, and half-surprise. “I really hate it when you do that. It's like talking to Kosh. Speaking of which, a joint venture between the Minbari and the Vorlons? Whose idea was that?”

Delenn smiled. “It was...how do you say? A good idea at the time.”

Sinclair laughed and looked around the bridge. “I agree.” He felt a hand on his arm and dropped his gaze.

“Jeff, Susan cares for you more than any other person on Babylon 5, perhaps even in her life as a whole. I can see that and only a blind person could miss it,” Delenn told him.

“Yes, Sheridan has already pointed that out to me,” Sinclair replied dryly.

She gave him a mysterious smile. “Do not worry about John. I'm sure he will come to see things differently in time.”

Sinclair didn't want to know how she had managed to pull of that particular miracle. “Sometimes I can't help but think 'why me?' I feel she could do so much better.”

“Yes, we all suffer these moments of inadequacy, even the best of us. It is normal. It is what makes us....”

“Human?” Sinclair finished for her with a grin.

Delenn glared at him, though she was smiling as well. “I was going to say 'sentient beings'. Minbari feel love differently to humans, who feel it differently to Narns, but however we feel it, it is still love. And usually, when a mate is chosen, it is for life.”

“Not always.”

“No, not always. But souls who are meant to be together will always find a way to achieve that goal.”

“Approaching Zagros VIII,” Lennier informed them, interrupting both conversations.

“Bring us out of hyperspace, Mr Lennier,” Sinclair ordered. “Destroy all the mines and other blockades around the planet, and tell the Rangers to be ready to leave immediately.”

“Yes, Entil'zha.”

Everyone was concentrating on their tasks, but Ivanova noted the frown on Sinclair's face and came up to him. “What is it?”

“This is too easy,” he murmured. “If the Centauri were so interested in this planet, why isn't there a warship guarding it?”

“Entil'zha, I'm picking up a disturbance,” Marcus said.

Sinclair looked over his shoulder. “Show me.”

A type of holographic screen dropped down in front of him, from ceiling to floor in length, and off to the left, a ship appeared.

A Shadow ship.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Garibaldi sauntered into the office and dropped the report on the desk, glancing around the dimly lit room as was his habit, and when he saw two faint glowing pin pricks, he swore. “Captain?”

“Sorry, Michael, I didn't mean to startle you.”

Garibaldi walked over to where Sheridan was sat. “I thought you'd be asleep by now.”

“Can't,” he replied.

The security chief nodded in understanding. “I know what you mean. But they'll be fine.”

Sheridan sighed. “I sure hope so.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“This can only mean one thing,” Sinclair said slowly.

“That they know about the Rangers,” Ivanova replied.

Delenn was studying Sinclair face and she recognised the expression on it. “We cannot fight, we are not ready.”

The White Star was rocked suddenly as the Shadow vessel, having registered them, attacked. “Tell them that,” Sinclair replied dryly. “Evasive action, Mr Lennier.”

“The Shadows never miss,” Delenn informed him, just as the next wave of fire sailed past them without making contact.

Ivanova's eyes widen. “They missed,” she stated.

Sinclair nodded. “But the question is 'why'?” He turned. “How many more mines to go, Mr Lennier?”

“Done,” he replied.

“Marcus, signal the Rangers to clear out.”

“Yes, Entil'zha.”

“Mr Lennier, move us to the jumpgate. I don't want them to know we can open one,” he said. “I want to keep that a secret.”

“It will follow us wherever we go,” Delenn told him.

Sinclair smiled. “I'm counting on it.”

“Enemy vessel in pursuit,” Ivanova called out.

“Good.”

“Jeff, you must call for aid. We cannot destroy it alone. It is far more powerful than we are,” Delenn pleaded with him, her hands on his arm.

Sinclair looked at her, his eyes darker than normal. “I've heard that before. Just because something has never been defeated - _that we know about_ \- doesn't mean it doesn't have a weak point. We just have to find it.” He returned his attention to the view outside, then slowly, turned the other way to Ivanova.

She recognised the move, the slowness about it, before she even saw the expression on his face. “No. Whatever it is, it's suicide. Sir.”

Sinclair smiled. “Commander, what would happen if we opened a jump point while inside a jumpgate?”

Marcus' eyebrows shot right up and even Lennier looked surprised. The Ranger had been trained by Sinclair, had spent time around him and knew there was a dangerous side to him, but he hadn't realised just how crazy he was. Delenn, however, was looking at him with extreme fondness; no one could know that the thought going through her head was that Sheridan would have come up with the same idea.

“I was right, it would be suicide,” Ivanova replied. “The energy created would be massive, and we'd never escape before it exploded.”

“Mr Lennier, the White Star is the fastest ship out there. Could it escape the blast?” Sinclair asked.

Lennier spread his hands. “I do not know, Entil'zha.”

Sinclair then looked at Delenn. “Well?”

“I will admit I am curious about your theory,” she said.

“Good enough for me. Mr Lennier, am I correct in thinking we're near sector 45?”

“Yes.”

“Good. We'll use that gate to try out this 'theory'.”

“Why that gate, Entil'zha?” Marcus asked respectfully.

Sinclair's expression darkened. “It's the one closest to the Markhab homeworld and other races have been using it to strip the planet bare. I don't like grave robbers.”

“The Shadow ship is following us,” Ivanova reported as they started to jump back into normal space.

Before they had fully exited the vortex, Sinclair gave the order. “Activate jump engines, now! And put everything into the engines!”

The White Star leapt forwards as the jumpgate exploded in a fierce burst of energy. The Shadow ship was caught in the middle of the blast, unable to go forwards or backwards, and as it twisted and rend it let out a piercing scream before being destroyed. The blast wave caught the White Star and flung it, but the damage seemed to be minimal.

“We did it. We actually did it,” Marcus said in shock, and then he stared at Sinclair with renewed awe. Even Lennier was looking at him as though he was seeing him for the first time. Delenn's expression, however, more reflected Ivanova's; no doubt or surprise, just extreme pride.

“Well done, everybody,” Sinclair said simply. “Alright, let's head back to the barn.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“We did try and get a message to you,” Garibaldi said to Sinclair, who was now back in uniform.

“I understand, Michael. It's fine,” he reassured him.

Upon returning to Babylon 5, Sinclair, Ivanova and Delenn had been accosted by Endawi, who had demanded to know where they had been and why there was a falsified record in the station log. To the officers' surprise, Delenn came to their rescue with a fabrication about them aiding the Minbari on a top secret diplomatic matter, which seemed to satisfy Endawi and he left without further issue.

“So did he find what he was looking for?” Ivanova asked.

“I don't think so,” Sheridan replied. “Ambassador Mollari spoke of dreams, while G'Kar showed him drawings in the book of G'Quon. Kosh, of course, refused to speak to him.” He then looked around at Sinclair, Ivanova, Delenn and Marcus. “So? How did it go?”

“Good,” Delenn replied.

“Fine,” Ivanova added.

Sinclair just sat back in his chair and looked smug. “It was a very successful mission,” he told the other Captain after a lengthy silence. “The White Star and her crew performed exceptionally. We saved all the Rangers and we destroyed a Shadow vessel.”

His tone was one of nonchalance, as though he was describing a walk in the park, and Ivanova covered her face with her hands, while Delenn looked at him in mild reproach. Garibaldi raised his eyebrows, while Sheridan's jaw almost hit the floor.

“What?” he asked.

“We did it,” Sinclair said, simplifying his answer.

Sheridan scowled. “You and I are going to talk about this later.”

“It's my ship, John, you can't have it. But I might let you share.” Sinclair grinned. “Now, you were saying something about a War Council?”

“We'll meet here every two weeks. Whatever any of us has learned, we'll share in the hopes we can achieve more by working together than working separately,” Sheridan explained, still scowling. “We've all got our own contacts, our own ideas and leads, but I think we can be of better help to each other when we share. Anyone can say anything they like during these meetings. Any questions?”

Franklin leant forward. “I have one. Or several. Now, granted I'm stuck in med lab most of the time and so I'm usually the last to know anything, and granted we've been pretty busy lately, but come someone please tell me what the hell these Shadows are? Who or what are these Rangers? What is the White Star? And who the hell he is?” He pointed to Marcus. “No offence.”

“None taken,” Marcus replied.

Sinclair and Sheridan had the same thought; they both looked at Delenn. “Would you mind?” the younger Captain asked with a soft smile.

Delenn smiled back and began her story.

TBC


	49. 302 Convictions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive apologies for not posting sooner, but I've been crazy busy moving to a new job in a new country and so much other stuff going on as well I just haven't had the time to write. But I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint (and I hope it answers a few questions as well!)

_January 2260_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Alright, what do we have?” Sheridan asked briskly as they gathered in the office.

Ivanova turned slightly in her chair so she could face the other. “We've been receiving a number of anonymous messages, delivered directly to C&C, declaring a countdown to chaos.”

Sheridan nodded. “I know. So what?”

Ivanova and Garibaldi exchanged surprised looks at his short-tempered attitude. “Well, Captain, they're not threats any more,” the security chief explained. “There was an explosion a short while ago, a booby trap in Downbelow that a lurker triggered.”

“Was anyone else hurt?” Sinclair asked, frowning in concern.

“A few minor injuries, apart from the lurker,” Garibaldi replied. “The thing is, I've gone over the blast site inch by inch. There's nothing worth blowing up down there. The damage was heavy, but contained.” He shrugged. “I don't get it.”

Sheridan looked at Sinclair. “Have you had threats like this before?”

“Not like this,” he replied, then looked back to Garibaldi. “Any leads at all?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Not yet anyway.”

“Alright, keep looking.”

“Will do.”

Sheridan looked around. “What else?”

“It seems that Ambassador Kosh's appearance a few weeks ago has caused a great deal of excitement amongst the alien races,” Ivanova said. “They now think the station is a holy place.”

“Is that likely to become a problem?” the younger Captain asked.

Garibaldi shrugged. “I don't think so. No more than when Earth Central decided we should hold a religious week so everyone could share their beliefs.”

Sinclair and Ivanova groaned at that memory. “Londo's celebration,” she said through her fingers while she held her head in her hands.

“I think once they've made the pilgrimage, they'll leave,” Garibaldi continued.

“There is one...matter.” Ivanova lifted her head, all business again. “The group of monks I mentioned still wish to make home here and as much as I tried to dissuade them, they are fairly adamant they want to stay.”

“How diplomatic were you?” Sinclair asked.

“Very,” she assured him.

“That was probably the problem then,” Sheridan replied.

Ivanova glared at him. “Brother Theo did mention that a lot of the monks were engineers and computer experts, and were willing to make themselves useful in exchange for staying here.”

“Are any of them telepaths by any chance?” Sheridan asked sourly. Earth Central was continuing to ignore their requests for another telepath, and to say it was making him cranky was an understatement.

Sinclair sighed. “If they understand the conditions of living here, and they're insistent, I don't see a problem.” He looked from face to face. “Anything else?”

Again, Ivanova and Garibaldi shared a look, but this time they both shook their heads. “I think that's it.”

“Alright. Ivanova, help Brother Theo and his monks to settle in. Garibaldi, keep up the investigation, let us know the minute you find anything,” Sinclair ordered them.

It could be argued that the length of time they had been serving together was what contributed to them being able to understand what the Captain wasn't saying, and maybe that was true, but more so it was their friendship that had helped them to develop a way of communicating without using words. Sheridan's eyes narrowed slightly, as if he knew he was missing something but wasn't quite sure what. Ivanova and Garibaldi nodded in acknowledgement and left quietly.

“What did I do this time?” the younger Captain asked waspishly.

Sinclair just regarded him calmly. “I understand you feel Delenn's absence, John, but there's no need to be so cranky about it.”

“I'm not....” Sheridan stopped himself. “It's not just that.”

“Then what is it?”

He was silent for a long time, choosing his words and deciding whether to actually say them or not. “How come you got the White Star?” he asked eventually.

Sinclair had been expecting that question, but he was surprised by the level of anger in Sheridan's voice. “I don't know,” he replied honestly. “Maybe it's because I'm Ranger One.”

“You've never captained a star ship before,” Sheridan pointed out.

“I'm an Earthforce Captain,” Sinclair replied.

“With no experience.”

As soon as the words had left his mouth, before the deadly silence which followed, Sheridan knew he had pushed too far. He was jealous, it was as simple as that, not only because Sinclair had been given a new ship – not just newly made, but new type as well – but it had been Delenn who had presented it to him. And the younger Captain was surprised at his reaction.

“If you want the damned ship, Sheridan, take it. I left the keys in the ignition.” With that, Sinclair walked out.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

When Sinclair walked onto the command deck some time later, he was glad to see that Sheridan was nowhere in sight. Ivanova, however, was there and she knew the moment she laid eyes on him that something wasn't right.

“Sheridan's acting like a spoilt child over the White Star,” he told her before she could ask.

“Well, you were teasing him relentlessly about it when you we got back from...the mission,” Ivanova replied without hesitation.

Sinclair regarded her with raised eyebrows. “So you're saying that, at the least, I deserve his attitude? At the most...this is my fault?”

“I'm just saying that no matter how you look at this, it wasn't going to end well. Not only did you get a brand new, never before made ship, it was also given to you personally by Delenn,” Ivanova explained quietly, making sure her voice didn't carry. “I mean, the White Star is kind of unique, and Captain Sheridan is used to being the Captain of a ship. He is also...fond of Ambassador Delenn.”

She wasn't telling him anything knew, nothing which hadn't already crossed his mind. But he had hoped Sheridan would react differently; in fact, he had hoped the other Captain wouldn't react at all. But then perhaps, with more training.... Sinclair was aware he had drifted, was aware of Ivanova's eyes boring into him.

“How is Marcus settling in?” he asked.

Ivanova blinked, taken aback by the question. “Fine, I think. To be honest, I haven't spoken to him.”

“Help him to find his feet, whatever he needs.” Sinclair turned to leave.

“Where are you going?” Ivanova asked.

“To see a man about a ship.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan stood with his arm around Delenn's shoulder, surprised that she let him comfort her in such a public place, surprised that she leant into him, seemingly grateful for the support. Lennier had been lucky; he was still alive, though in a coma. Londo was shocked at the young Minbari's selfless act of saving his life; his expression was a permanently stunned one.

Sheridan didn't react to the sound of the doors to med lab opening, but upon hearing familiar footfalls, he turned his head. “How is he?” Sinclair asked, coming to stand at the other side of Delenn.

“He is unconscious, but stable, Dr Franklin says,” Delenn replied.

Sinclair just nodded and stared at Lennier, his anger rising for whoever was responsible for the attacks. Then suddenly, he felt a light touch on his hand, fingers lacing gently with his, and Delenn squeezed reassuringly, though she never moved from the protective circle of Sheridan's arms. It never ceased to amaze Sinclair that no matter what was happening, or how she was feeling, Delenn always found a way to comfort others. If Sheridan noticed her easily tactility with the other Captain, he didn't show it.

“What happened?” Sinclair asked eventually.

“Explosion in the docking bay,” Sheridan replied. “It seems Lennier pushed Delenn and Londo out of the way before the pressure doors dropped, trapping him inside.”

“So was one of the ambassadors the target?” he wondered out loud.

“We don't know yet. Mr Garibaldi is looking into it.”

Sinclair nodded and fell into silence as he tried to calm himself. He knew Lennier's view of him changed depending on the situation, and he also guessed the reason why, but it didn't change what he thought of the young Minbari. And there was something about the three of them stood watching over him, like a vigil, that felt right.

Until his link beeped.

Excusing and extracting himself, he walked out of med lab. “Sinclair, go.”

_“Captain, I think you should get up here. Captain Sheridan as well,”_ Ivanova told him in a grim voice.

“We're on our way.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

It was a circus. There was no other term for it. G'Kar had cornered Garibaldi and railed at him about the Centauri being responsible for the bombings, despite the fact that several Centauri – including Londo – had been or almost been injured in the blasts, a fact which the security chief pointed out and the Narn ignored. Then, of course, Londo was insisting that the Narns were responsible, widening their range of terror tactics, despite several Narns being injured or almost injured in the blasts.

But in truth, there was no sense to the attacks and no one was claiming responsibility. The meeting Ivanova had called was based on what little information she and Garibaldi had gleaned from the incidents. Firstly, they concluded the blasts were aimed at people, not installations, and secondly, their only purpose seemed to be spreading chaos and terror. Which was working remarkably well.

“We have to do something,” Ivanova said impatiently during the meeting.

“If you have a suggestion, Commander, I'm all ears,” Sheridan replied.

“We need to implement martial law,” Sinclair said quietly.

Everyone turned to look at him. “No offense, Jeff, but have you gone space happy?” Garibaldi asked his friend.

“It's the only way to protect people,” he replied. “This bomber's next target could be anyone, anywhere. We need to minimise injury and loss of life as much as possible.”

Sheridan turned to the head of security. “Are there any clues at all?”

“We're running a trace on the bomb materials, see if anything turns up. It's a long shot, but if this guy has struck before, no doubt he'll be using the same MO,” Garibaldi replied.

“Alright, we'll meet back here in a couple of hours, and let's hope we have something to go on,” the younger Captain said before walking out.

Garibaldi turned to Sinclair. “How's Lennier doing?”

“Stable, but unconscious,” the Captain replied, stretching his arm across the back of the chair next to him and his legs out in front of him. He was silent for a moment, then lifted his eyes to his friend; they were dark and angry, the eyes of a man inches away from embarking on a personal vendetta. “Find whoever's responsible, Michael, or I'll start looking into it myself.”

From anyone else, it would have been a threat, but Garibaldi took it as incentive to work harder, and with a silent nod, he left the office. Before he was even out of sight, Ivanova laid her hand on Sinclair's arm. “You need to calm down,” she said quietly. “For everyone's sake. I know that this was personal for you before, but with Lennier being hurt, it's more so. But you're the Captain. You have to keep your cool, show people there's no reason to be afraid. If they see you acting as normal, they'll take comfort in that.” She moved her hand slowly up and down his arm. “They always have.”

As Ivanova spoke, Sinclair could feel his heartbeat and his breathing slowing down. “And when we find who's responsible?” he asked.

“Then I'll make sure all the cameras in one of the cells are turned off, and you and Sheridan can...teach him the error of his ways.” She smiled at him. “We'll find him.”

“Dinner,” Sinclair said randomly.

Ivanova stared at him. “You want to track him through food?”

He smiled and laced his fingers with hers. “No, I just realised you were right, I need to calm down. So have dinner with me and afterwards, we can walk through the station together to show people they don't need to be afraid.”

“Alright. Come by my quarters in...an hour?”

“Perfect.”

On impulse, Ivanova kissed him before standing up. “Don't be late.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

They never made it to dinner as Garibaldi called a meeting with some news. “We found a molecular trace on the bomb materials,” he told them. “They were stolen from an ice mine on Beta 7.”

“How does that help us?” Sheridan asked.

“We can check passengers manifests against those who have been to Beta 7, but there is another piece of information we can use.” Garibaldi looked around at everyone. “It seems the bomber has struck before, on Proxima 3. Same materials, same MO.”

“So we need to concentrate on cross-checking all the traffic from there to here,” Sheridan said.

Ivanova looked thoughtful. “It's possible the bomber returned to the sites to admire his handiwork as well,” she offered.

Sheridan nodded. “Michael, cross-reference the passengers coming here from Proxima 3 against the security footage from after the blasts.”

Garibaldi stared at him. “Do you know how many hours of video there is?” he asked unhappily.

Sheridan just stared right back. “It's our best shot.”

“There is another way,” Sinclair said.

“What?”

He looked at Ivanova, waiting to see how quickly she would pick up the train of thought. It didn't take her very long. “The monks. Brother Theo said they wanted to help, so....” She left the idea hanging.

Garibaldi seemed very pleased. “I'll get on it right away,” he said, hurrying from the office.

After he had gone, Sheridan turned to Sinclair and Ivanova, his expression grave. “What are our chances?” he asked. “Realistically.”

Sinclair looked surprised. “You mean are we likely to catch this guy?” He frowned as Sheridan nodded, a silent waiting game taking place as he waited for the other Captain to explain.

“I'll just...,” Ivanova said, pointing to the door and making a quick getaway.

“John, what is it?” Sinclair asked, still frowning.

“We don't know anything about this guy,” he said, standing and pacing. “We don't know what he wants, how he operates. His next target could be anywhere, or anyone!”

Sinclair was silent for a moment, quickly running through scenarios in his head. “This is about Delenn, isn't it?”

Sheridan stopped and stared. “What?”

“Lennier is badly injured and Delenn is – understandably – extremely worried about him. And that means you're worried about her.” Sinclair stood and walked towards him. “John, we'll find this. This will work.”

“And martial law?” he asked. “How long do we keep that up for?”

Sinclair sighed. “Just because we've declared it doesn't mean people should be scared. It's up to us to show them they don't need to be. Now, why don't you go and find Delenn? Spend some time with her. Make up an excuse if you have to, but go and satisfy yourself that she's okay.”

Sheridan nodded, his expression grateful. “What about you?”

“I think I'll have a walk around, just be in the public eye. Let them know that we're not worried.”

“But we are.”

“They don't need to know that.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Delenn walked quietly into med lab, focused only on reaching Lennier's room. She had been waiting for Londo to leave, and it had surprised her how long the Centauri ambassador had spent with the young Minbari. Surprised and pleased her; it made her think that perhaps there was still hope for him. But she wanted to spend some time with Lennier alone, to tell him of her day, to explain what she had to do over the next few days...simply to enjoy his company. She hadn't realised how much she had missed him until he was incapacitated. She sat next to his bed and didn't hesitate before taking his hand. She spoke to him quietly, haltingly, and it didn't take long for her to start asking him to wake up.

That was what Sheridan walked in on. He was striding across the main room when he heard her broken voice, heard the pain in it, and was about to turn and leave, but then he remembered why he was there. Remembered Sinclair's words, and so he slowed his pace and crept forwards, not wishing to disturb her but not really wanting to intrude.

Delenn heard him anyway and turned. “Hi,” Sheridan said softly. She managed a weak smile, her eyes inviting him into the room, then turned her attention back to Lennier. “How is he?”

“No different,” she replied.

There was so much he wanted to say to her in that moment, so much comfort he wanted to offer, but he knew on some level that his words would be meaningless, so instead he asked a simple question. “Would you mind if I stayed for a while?”

Delenn turned surprised, then she saw the earnest expression on his face and managed another smile, stronger than the last. “Of course not, Captain. Thank you.”

“John,” Sheridan said quietly as he sat down next to her, close but not quite touching. “Call me John.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova wasn't jealous as such, not generally as a person, and definitely not when it came to Sinclair, but she was definitely envious of him, a feeling that hadn't really diminished and definitely hadn't disappeared in over two years. He had pulled her off the command deck and asked her to walk through the station with him. And wherever they went, he knew everyone's name, knew a little detail about them that made them feel special. He had a way about him that put people at ease, a friendly smile that carried him through almost any situation, and it was that familiarity about him that Ivanova knew she could never duplicate. Even Sheridan didn't have that way with people, though he was persuasive in a different way.

“Everything okay?” Sinclair asked as they walked away from the Zocalo.

“I was just thinking I envy you,” Ivanova admitted honestly.

He turned to look at her, surprised. “Why?”

“The way you are with...well, everyone. People like you.”

He laughed. “Not everyone feels that way and you know it.”

“Yes, but these people are the ones whose opinions matter in the end,” she pointed out, gesturing to the civilians and crew walking around.

“Susan, people respect you, and like you. It's just different than the way they see me. Or Sheridan. Or Michael. Or Stephen,” Sinclair told her gently. “There is no way you can be a different person than the one you are, and people admire you for being yourself. You shouldn't compare yourself, or your success, to anyone else.”

Ivanova was silent for a while until they stopped outside a transport tube. “I could kiss you right now,” she murmured, keeping her eyes on the doors.

Sinclair grinned. “That could be arranged.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan had been happy enough to stay for just a short while, in silence, and then go. He just wanted to show Delenn some support, for reasons he couldn't fully understand and still didn't want to analyse too closely, though he also knew he couldn't ignore what was happening forever. And something was happening. It wasn't his imagination, either; there was definitely something between them. And he was sure Delenn was aware of it as well because it hadn't taken long for her to start talking, sharing small bits of information and anecdotes he was certain she didn't tell just anyone. A lot of them were to do with Lennier, and she would often look at the young Minbari fondly when speaking.

Usually, in a situation like that, Sheridan would share some of his own stories, but with Delenn, in that moment, it didn't seem right. Instead he was content to let her speak, to just listen to her voice and enjoy her company. Or he was until his link went off.

“I'm sorry,” he said, apologising quietly to Delenn but looking at Lennier as well. He stood quickly and went outside the room. “Sheridan, go.”

_“Captain, there's been another explosion,”_ Garibaldi informed him, and there was a stressful note in his voice that made Sheridan worry.

“Alright. Does Sinclair know?”

_“We can't get through to him at all.”_

Cold gripped Sheridan. “What about Ivanova?”

Garibaldi's voice was like a taut rope of ice. _“No luck either.”_ He took a deep breath. _“According to C &C, they were taking a walk. You know, letting people see them unconcerned about the bombings in the hopes the public would relax a little....”_

Sheridan was developing a strong sinking feeling about what had happened to them. “I'm on my way. Your office, five minutes.”

_“I'll be here.”_

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, scenarios running this his head like hyperactive sheep, only brought out of his worry-daze when he felt something on his arm. “What has happened, John?” Delenn asked, concerned.

Sheridan covered her hand with his and tried to smile. “It's nothing.”

“Please do no lie to me.”

“Alright, it's something,” he admitted.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Sheridan shook his head. “The best thing you could do right now is to stay with Lennier. Trust me, okay?” Delenn nodded. “Everything will be fine, I promise. I have to go.”

“Be careful,” she said to him quietly.

Not trusting himself to speak, and worried he would act inappropriately if he hesitated any longer, Sheridan simply nodded and strode from med lab. It was only after he had rushed off that he realised just how long Delenn had stood with her hand on his arm, and how long he had covered it with his own for.

Definitely _not_ his imagination.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

As Sinclair came groggily to, he felt a wave of panic take hold of him as his brain registered pain and a sense of being trapped. Memories of his torture at the hands of the Minbari – and the Knights – came flooding back and he tried to take deep breaths to calm himself down, hissing as his ribs protested at the action. Slowly he opened his eyes, glad he could at least do that. Tentatively, he tried to move; arms, legs, head. Nothing broken, though his shoulder was extremely unhappy with him, and he could feel blood on his neck and back. And he was certain that if he looked, he would be covered in bruises, but that really was nothing new. Looking around, Sinclair tried to recall where he was and what had happened.

“Susan,” he murmured, crawling painfully to her side.

Ivanova muttered something but didn't open her eyes. Sinclair checked briefly and she seemed to be in a similar state to him; nothing broken but some bruising, scrapes and unhappy muscles and joints. “Oww,” she said as she came around.

Sinclair breathed a sigh of relief and brushed some hair from her face. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she replied, attempting to smile. “What happened?”

“I'm not sure,” he said as he carefully helped her into a sitting position. “I'm guessing there's been some sort of explosion.”

Ivanova looked at him seriously. “You think the bomber struck again?”

“It seems likely,” Sinclair admitted. “But then again, maybe it's one of Garibaldi's practical jokes that has backfired.”

“Either that or this was a trap set by G'Kar for Londo,” she said.

Sinclair smiled. “Or Londo for G'Kar.”

“Either way would work.” She smiled back at him briefly, then shook her head. “I'm sorry, Jeff, I can't do this. The Russian in me knows this is a hopeless situation, and has decided this is a very Russian ending as well.”

“I sense a 'but',” Sinclair said quietly.

“But I don't want it to be the end,” she admitted. “I'm not ready to die here, now, not like this.”

“It won't, Susan. We _will_ get out of here.” He cupped her face gently, but frowned when she winced. “Where does it hurt?”

She grunted. “Easier to ask where it doesn't hurt.”

Sinclair smiled. “Alright. Where doesn't it hurt?”

“Here,” Ivanova replied almost petulantly, pointing to her elbow.

Leaning forward, Sinclair pressed his lips to the fabric of her jacket right next to her fingers. “Anywhere else that doesn't hurt?”

She pointed to a spot near her collarbone. “Here.”

He kissed that as well. “Is that it?”

“This doesn't hurt too much either,” Ivanova said softly, pointing to the corner of her mouth.

Sinclair didn't need a second invitation to kiss her fully on the lips, but gently. “It'll be okay, Susan. I promise,” he whispered.

“How do you know that?” she asked.

Sinclair sighed heavily. “I have to believe it will be. I _have_ to.”

There was such vehemence in his voice that Ivanova knew she was missing something. “What is it? And please don't say it's just these bombings. Jeff....” She took a breath. “You've been hiding things from me for a long time, I know that, and I've accepted it. But now...what if we don't get out?”

He stared at the far wall of the transport tube for a while, lost in his own thoughts, and she let him wallow in the silence. Finally, he turned his head and brought his eyes to hers. “Susan...I think it's time I told you the truth. Time I told you...everything. Everything I know.”

And for reasons she couldn't explain, Ivanova's heart went cold with dread.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Any luck?” Sheridan asked as he strode into Garibaldi's office.

The security officer shook his head, his mouth in a thin line. “No, Captain.” Then his expression became curious. “Didn't you feel the explosion?”

Sheridan ignored him. “What was the damage?”

Garibaldi took the hint. Any other time, he would have ribbed the Captain about being oblivious but not today. “Seemingly superficial and no casualties this time,” he replied, then spread his hands. “I don't get it. Why not target something that means something?”

“We've been over this, Mr Garibaldi.”

“I know, it's just....”

“Frustrating. I know,” Sheridan said in sympathy. “And you're worried as well.”

“Damn straight I am!” Garibaldi snapped, gesturing wildly. “Jeff and Susan are on this station somewhere, we don't know where! All we know is we can't reach them and that can only mean something bad.”

Sheridan stepped close to the head of security. “I get it, Michael. I feel the same way. But I need you sharp if we're going to catch this guy, and find them.” A sly smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Have you checked their quarters?”

Garibaldi stared at him in shock before quickly becoming expressionless. “Captain Sheridan, I'm appalled and offended at that suggestion.”

He stepped back, hands behind his back, and looked suitably gruff. “Of course, Chief. My apologies.” Then his expression softened. “We _will_ find them, Michael. We have to.”

There was the sound of a throat clearing and then before they could turn fully, a voice spoke. “Captain Sheridan, Mr Garibaldi, might I have a word?” Brother Theo asked.

Both men shared a quick glance, knowing that it wasn't a question but an order, and the Captain smiled politely. “Of course.”

“We have studied all the video footage you supplied us with and there is one face which appears at the site of each blast right after it happens,” Brother Theo explained. “When your security team is beginning their investigations, Mr Garibaldi, this man is there.”

“And you're sure he's the one?” Sheridan asked. When he didn't receive a reply, he turned to see the monk glaring at him. “Just asking.”

Garibaldi managed to hide a smile. “It's the best lead we have so far. Thank you,” he said.

Brother Theo just inclined his head, then gave both men a piercing look. “Where are Captain Sinclair and Commander Ivanova?”

“We don't know,” Garibaldi admitted.

“Perhaps we could aid you in finding them.”

Sheridan nodded. “We'd appreciate that. But don't put yourselves in danger.”

“Believe me, Captain, we have no intention of moving from this room.” Theo smiled. “It really is surprising what one can learn from watching videos if one has the time to study them properly. I will let you know if we find anything.”

Garibaldi hide another smile at the thinly veiled dismissal. “Thank you,” Sheridan said through slightly gritted teeth.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Delenn didn't turn when she heard the soft footsteps which had entered med lab stop in the doorway to Lennier's room. She expected it to be Sheridan, knew it would not be Franklin, and Garibaldi wasn't that quiet. But when the person didn't speak, Delenn's instincts kicked in. There was only one person she could think of who moved that way, and she turned quickly, expectantly.

“You thought I was someone else,” Marcus stated quietly, in an understanding tone. “I didn't mean to disturb you, I just wanted to see how Lennier was doing.”

“Please, come in,” Delenn bade him. “Now, tell me why you are really here.”

Marcus looked surprised. “I just said.”

“A half truth is the worst kind of lie,” she told him not unkindly.

“I heard Entil'zha was missing,” he replied quietly. “I wondered if I could help. If you know of anything....”

Delenn leant forward and put her hand on his arm. “I appreciate your concern, Marcus, as will the Entil'zha, but I think you should leave this matter in the hands of Earthforce.”

“I have connections that could help,” Marcus started to explain.

Delenn's expression turned fierce. “No!” She softened a little. “I do not want to risk injury to anyone else...close to me.”

Marcus was silent for a long time, his gaze focussed on Lennier's still form. “Well, if you won't let me help find Entil'zha, at least let me take you to dinner. I hardly think that Entil'zha, or Lennier – or Captain Sheridan, for that matter – would appreciate me not taking care of you during your bedside vigil.” He stood and held out the crook of his elbow. “Please?”

Delenn smiled in spite of herself. “Very well.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Despite his promise of sharing everything he knew with Ivanova, Sinclair found himself unsure where to start. He stared at the transport tube wall opposite him, aware of her eyes boring into him, aware of her turmoil, and he wished he could ease it. But he knew whatever he said next would not be of a comfort to either of them.

“Both times I've been in Sector 14, I've seen...things. Things I can't explain, but that I believe are true,” Sinclair started. “When I was there with Garibaldi, when I saw the creature, Zathras, I was hit by a strong sense of deja vu, and it seemed like he knew me as well. He told me I had a destiny when I tried to save him.” He shifted slightly, wincing in discomfort. “Due to the temporal distorted, somehow I saw two distinct futures. In one of them, you and I were together. A couple. And we were still here on Babylon 5. We were happy, it was working, and...I think it was in the near future as well. But in the other future....” He paused to gather himself, but his voice still shook when he spoke. “You were wearing a different uniform, a black one. Still Earthforce, but...not. You were sending a distress signal because we were being invaded; almost everyone else on board had been killed.” Sinclair forced himself to look in Ivanova's eyes. “Sometimes, at night, I can still hear your voice piercing my dreams. Garibaldi and I had rigged a bomb to the fusion reactor, ready to blow up the station. And the worst part was, it felt right. It felt...possible. I saw it all as clearly as I see you now. The only thing I didn't see was who was responsible.” He swallowed. “Do you remember when I got back? You said you thought you'd lost me. I wanted to tell you then, tell you it was true. Because in that future I know I died just before setting the bomb, leaving Michael to finish the job.”

“Both futures can't be true,” Ivanova said quietly.

Sinclair managed to smile. “I wish it was as simple as that.”

“What more is there?”

“When I went to rescue Sheridan, there was a temporal rift open and again, I saw...things. I saw glimpses of...I suppose an alternate timeline, if there is such a thing,” Sinclair explained. “I didn't come back to Babylon 5 after Santiago's death. I was on Minbar, as an ambassador, training the Rangers. And you carried on without me. There was no 'us'. But I came back to Babylon 5 on a mission, though I don't know what it was. You...you were wearing the same black uniform I saw in a vision from the first visit to Babylon 4. You, me, Sheridan, Delenn, Lennier and Marcus then embarked on a trip to Sector 14...to Babylon 4.” He closed his eyes as he started to cry again. “The portal closed at that point, I didn't see anything else. Didn't want to see anything else.”

Ivanova longed to comfort Sinclair, to touch him somehow, but she couldn't quite bring herself to move. She couldn't wrap her head around what he was telling her, and there was still something that didn't feel right to her, like he was still hiding something. “What else is there, Jeff?

“When I was on Babylon 4 the first time, I touched a figure in a blue spacesuit,” he replied after a while.

“Yes, I remember you telling me.”

“I saw something then as well. I saw something that has to be, something that cannot be avoided, and it's the real reason I tried to fight my feelings for you. The real reason I didn't want to take our relationship any further.” Sinclair forced his body to turn fully. With one hand, he took hold of Ivanova's, caressing her knuckles while his other hand traced patterns on her cheek. “Very soon I will go to Z'ha'dum. And I will die. I know in my soul it can't be avoided. I just don't know why.”

Ivanova squeezed her eyes shut and took several shaky breaths. She longed to rage at him, to hit and kick him in anger, but she didn't have the strength. And as she tried to calm herself, she felt his raw anguish, and she leant into his palm instead. “It might not happen.”

He shook his head. “It is one of the things I am certain of. That...and how I feel about you. I didn't want to make you happy just to leave you broken and alone for the rest of your life. But no matter how hard I tried to stop myself, I still fell for you. Susan....”

She covered his lips with a finger. “Don't. Don't say it just because of the situation we're in or what you've just told me.”

He moved her hand and smiled. “I'm not. You have to know me better than that.” Sinclair cupped her face. “Susan, I love you. And I don't actually say the words to you, I'll regret it forever.”

Ivanova initiated the kiss. It was awkward and caused physical pain for both of them, but it was filled with passion and promise and hope. “I love you too, Jeff. More than I've ever loved anyone before.” She ran her fingers gently through his hair. “I know you've seen a lot, and I know you believe some or all of it, even though it is conflicting. But no matter what, the future isn't set in stone.”

“I used to believe that. But after everything I have seen, I'm not so sure,” Sinclair admitted.”

“Jeff, listen to me. I believe we are meant to be together. And no force in the universe can stop that from happening,” Ivanova told him firmly. At her admission, he kissed her again, then when they pulled away he began to laugh. “What?”

“We're going to have to be a lot more careful from now on,” Sinclair said, smiling.

Ivanova smiled back. “I do enjoy a challenge.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan stared at the reports on his desk without actually seeing them. While it had been a big breakthrough identifying the bomber, Garibaldi had yet to link in saying he had found him. Lennier was still in a coma, Sinclair and Ivanova were still missing, and it now seemed Londo and G'Kar were unaccounted for as well. He wasn't sure if the day could get any worse.

He sensed a presence more than heard anyone approaching the office and when he looked up, Sheridan saw Delenn hesitating in the doorway. “I do not wish to disturb you.”

He stood up. “Not at all. Please, come in.” Then he rounded the desk and gestured to the sofa. “How is Lennier?”

“The same. But Marcus insisted I took a rest from watching him and so I thought I would come and see if you had any news.”

“We think we've identified the bomber, we just need to find him,” Sheridan told her.

“That is good news,” Delenn said.

“Yeah.”

“Has something else happened?” she asked, sensing his uncertainty.

Sheridan sighed. “Ambassador Mollari and G'Kar have also disappeared. And given the tension between the two races right now....”

Delenn was silent for a moment, then she regarded him carefully. “Do you believe they have fallen victim of the bomber or each other?”

“I'm hoping the former. I don't think I can deal with the latter right now,” he admitted. He covered his face with his hands briefly. “How do you do it, Delenn? How do you keep faith day in, day out, no matter what life throws at you?”

She smiled faintly. “Practice, Captain. Years and years of practice, from a very young age. But even I lose hope sometimes. I think it is natural with all sentient beings. But that is why we are generally sociable creatures. For when we lose our faith, there is always someone else to help restore it.” She placed her hand over his and Sheridan felt the world melting away.

“Captain, I think we've found him,” Garibaldi announced loudly as he strode into the office, oblivious of what he had interrupted.

Delenn and Sheridan sprang apart, the Captain managing to shoot the ambassador an apologetic look. “Where is he, Mr Garibaldi?”

“He's....” The security chief stopped when he realised Sheridan wasn't alone. “Oh, sorry, Ambassador. I didn't see you there.”

“I was just seeing if there was any news on Captain Sinclair or Commander Ivanova,” she replied.

“And giving me an update on Mr Lennier,” Sheridan added.

“Any change?” Garibaldi asked, his face creasing in concern.

“Unfortunately not,” Delenn said quietly.

“Well, we've located our bomber, and I think we have an idea where Jeff and Ivanova are as well.” Garibaldi sat down opposite them. “Brother Theo and his monks have been studying video footage from all over the station like they promised, and it shows Sinclair and Ivanova spending quite a bit of time in the Zocalo, just talking with people.”

Sheridan expression changed swiftly. “Ah, hell.”

The security chief looked at him. “Do you know something I don't, Captain?”

“Sinclair said something about having a walk around the last time I saw him. I think he wanted to reassure people that despite the explosions and martial law, everything was okay.”

“That makes sense. What we don't know is exactly where they are right now.” Garibaldi spread a schematic on the table. “Given the last sighting of them on the video footage and the time of the last explosion, they could be anywhere in this area.”

Sheridan hunched over the table. “Londo and G'Kar are also missing, did you know that?”

“Did they kill each other?” Garibaldi asked smartly.

Sheridan glared at him. “I sure hope not and if they did, you can fill in the paperwork.”

“Here!” Delenn exclaimed suddenly, pointing at the station map. “Is it possible they are here?”

“That's the...,” Garibaldi started.

“Transport tube,” Sheridan finished, already lifting his link up. “Sheridan to C&C.”

_“C &C online, Captain.”_

“Are any of the transport tubes down?”

There was a brief silence. _“Two, sir,”_ came the answer.

Sheridan looked at Garibaldi, then Delenn. “That's where they are, it _has_ to be,” he said in excitement.

“Do you think Londo and G'Kar are in one as well?” Garibaldi asked.

“We're about to find out. Let's go.”

“Captain, wait.” Garibaldi put his hands in his pockets and rocked on his feet a little. “Look, I'm as worried about Jeff and Susan as you are, but we can send rescue crews for them. We need to stop this bomber before he strikes again.”

Delenn watched Sheridan's expression shift to one of anger and without thinking, she put her hand on his arm. “John, he is right.” She fixed him with a soft gaze until she was sure he had calmed down.

“Alright. Let's go,” Sheridan repeated.

Once his back was turned, Garibaldi mouthed 'thank you' to Delenn, who smiled and inclined her head in reply.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

The light had faded in the transport tube, the heat was stifling and the air was definitely starting to thin out. Sinclair and Ivanova had curled as close to each other as they could get, though, despite the oppressive warmth, and at the back of his mind, Sinclair wondered what people would say if they found them that way.

“Susan,” he whispered. “Susan, hold on. We are going to get out of here. We _have_ to.”

“Looks like...maybe all those...futures that you saw...were wrong,” she replied in a light tone, but he could sense the underlying fear.

“No. I don't believe that at all,” Sinclair said firmly, shaking his head. “This is not our end, Susan. Not like this.”

“If it is, I'm glad...I'm here with you,” Ivanova told him.

Sinclair smiled down at her and swallowed to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. As he bent his head to kiss her hair, something faint caught his attention. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

He carefully disengaged her and stood gingerly. “I thought I heard something.”

“I think your brain is just...oxygen deprived,” Ivanova teased him.

He looked down to mock-glare at her, then his attention was drawn back to a spot above him. “No, there's someone up there. Here!” he shouted.

And surely, a muffled shout came back. Looking around, Sinclair grabbed a piece of debris and began hammering. He didn't shout again, decided to save his energy, and soon, a shaft of bright light pierced the dimness.

“Captain Sinclair! Are you alright, sir?” a voice asked. “Is Commander Ivanova with you?”

“She is. We're okay. Just get us out of here!” He turned and dropped to his knees. “If I say 'I told you so' will you hit me?” he asked with a cheeky grin.

Ivanova smiled back. “No, but I might kiss you.”

Sinclair gripped her hand as tightly as either of them could manage. “Hold that thought for later.”

He wasn't sure how long it took, but eventually, they were both out of the damaged transport tube surrounded by uniforms and concerned faces. “Captain, Susan, thank God!” Franklin exclaimed as he seemingly appeared from nowhere.

“Doctor,” Sinclair greeted him. “Have there been any casualties?”

Franklin knew better than to argue with the Captain. “Not that we know of, though we are still missing Ambassador Mollari and G'Kar, but we think they're in another transport tube as there were two down. Captain Sheridan and Mr Garibaldi have apprehended the man responsible, and stopped the entire station from being blown up as he'd attached a bomb to the fusion reactor.”

Sinclair smiled. “Good work.”

Franklin glanced at him, wondering how difficult it was going to be to get him to med lab, knowing from prior experience it could possibly be a nightmare. “We should probably get you two to med lab....”

But Ivanova just nodded. “Of course, Doctor.”

Franklin pretended not to notice how she deliberately reached for Sinclair's hand and as he looked around, it seemed the rest of the crew were doing the same.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Delenn was in Lennier's room when Sinclair and Ivanova entered med lab and she rushed out to them. “Jeff....”

“I'm alright, Delenn. We both are,” he told her, his voice deepening. Without hesitation, she went to him and he wrapped his arms around her. “It's okay. We're okay.”

“I was so worried about you,” Delenn whispered.

“I'm still here,” he replied. “How is Lennier?”

Delenn pulled away and shook her head. “No change.” Then she turned to Ivanova, inexplicably glad to see her. “Susan.”

Sinclair watched with a heart fit for bursting as the two women embraced fiercely. Franklin sidled up to the Captain. “I'm not even going to try and examine you just yet, but I think Ivanova may have broken some ribs,” he said quietly.

“I understand,” Sinclair replied.

“What?” Ivanova asked as she came over to them.

He smiled. “You get to go first.”

She just stared at him. “You can hold my hand then,” she joked.

But Sinclair stared deeply into her eyes, Franklin's presence forgotten, unaware of how uncomfortable he was making the doctor feel.

“I can do that.”

Ivanova smiled at him. “Jeff, it's fine. I'm not going anywhere.”

Franklin suddenly realised he needed to be elsewhere and quickly made his way, unnoticed by them, into Lennier's room. Sinclair took hold of one of Ivanova's hands with both of his. “No, Susan, I'm not going anywhere. I promise...I will _never_ leave you.”

“Would it be really inappropriate if I made good on that kiss now?” she asked.

“Not at all.”

“Is everything alright, Doctor?” Delenn asked curiously.

“Of course. Why?” he replied nervously. “I just thought I'd check on Mr Lennier while I'm here.”

Delenn frowned and turned to look outside, just in time to see Sinclair and Ivanova kissing. She smiled knowingly and turned back. “I see. And has there been any...change?”

“Nothing we didn't already know, just more obvious now,” Franklin grumbled under his breath.

“Is it really such a problem for you, Doctor?”

Franklin looked at her. “Me personally? Not at all. But the system?” He shook his head. “Actually, I heard a good joke the other day,” he said, attempting to lighten the mood. “How many Centauri does it take to change a light bulb?”

“Just...one,” a voice croaked, and they both turned to see Lennier lay there with his eyes open. “What did I miss?”

Outside, Sinclair and Ivanova heard his voice and rushed over. “Glad to see you awake, Mr Lennier,” Sinclair greeted him warmly.

Lennier took in their battered appearances with slightly wide eyes. “It seems...I have missed...quite a bit.”

“There will be plenty of time to talk later,” Delenn told him, holding his hand. “But right now, you need to rest.”

“I can think of two more of my patients who need to follow that advice,” Franklin said, turning to glare purposefully at Sinclair and Ivanova.

Just then, Sheridan and Garibaldi strode into med lab. “Jeff, you son of a bitch,” Garibaldi greeted his old friend, embracing him roughly but carefully.

“Michael. Well done.”

“Team effort,” Garibaldi said depreciatingly. “Susan....”

“We're okay, Michael,” she told him with a weary smile, opening her arms for a hug. The security chief didn't need a second invitation.

“Good to see you, Captain,” Sheridan said.

“And you, Captain. Good work, both of you,” Sinclair replied as the two men gripped each other's hands tightly.

Ivanova peered at Sheridan curiously, almost shyly. “Captain.”

“Commander,” he said, his voice hoarse. He hesitated, then he hugged her ever so gently. “I was worried about you, Susan.” He pulled away and looked deep into her eyes. “Don't ever do that to me again.” He glanced over his shoulder at Sinclair. “Either of you.”

“No promises, but I'll try not to,” Sinclair replied.

“Lennier is awake too,” Ivanova told them.

Sheridan smiled warmly. “That's great news.” And his eyes automatically drifted over to Delenn.

“Alright, let's get some order in here,” Franklin said firmly. “Unless you were somehow injured in an explosion, I need you to leave the infirmary. Except for you, Mr Garibaldi. I think I might need your help.”

Sheridan and Delenn didn't really need any encouragement to leave together, and Sinclair noted with satisfaction how his hand hovered over the small of her back as they walked out. “What's up, Doc?” Garibaldi asked, frowning.

“I need to examine these two _separately_ and then I need them both to rest for at least hours. In their own quarters. _Separately,_ ” Franklin told him.

“O-kay.” Garibaldi looked at Sinclair as the doctor led Ivanova away. “What was that about?”

“Are you sure you want the truth, Michael?”

“Honestly? In this case? Just this once? No. Thanks. I'm good.”

Sinclair chuckled. “Good. Because I don't feel like sharing right now.”

TBC


	50. 303 A Day in the Strife

_January 2260_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan's mood was decidedly pensive as he wandered through the station inspecting the repairs being carried out after the bombings. He had though they had seen and suffered enough last year, but it seemed not; when he thought about what had happened in the last few weeks alone, it made him cringe slightly. So much had happened and it wasn't even the end of January.

Ahead he saw Kosh and for a brief moment, the Vorlon looked in his direction. Or at least Sheridan assumed he did; it was difficult to tell with the encounter suit. And then, Kosh simply walked away. It was difficult for the Captain to swallow his annoyance, his impatience. While they had talked since Kosh saved his life, Sheridan still had many questions he wanted to ask and he was beginning to tire of constantly being shunned and ignored by the Vorlon.

He came to halt by the transport tube where Sinclair and Ivanova had been found. He hadn't seen much of either of them over the last few days since they were rescued, but he had heard plenty to worry him, and he wasn't sure he could continue to keep turning a blind eye to things. Yet he had no idea how to tackle the problem. He had agreed it didn't matter, but he changed from believing that to thinking it _did_ matter how they felt about each other. And yet he knew the only way to stop what was happening would be to separate them permanently, transfer one of them to a different posting somehow. And he wasn't sure he could do that either. The station needed both of them, _he_ needed both of them, just as they needed each other.

“What a mess,” Sheridan grumbled to himself.

“It can be fixed.”

Sinclair rumbling voice startled him and he bit back a curse. “Don't sneak up on me like that.”

Sinclair looked surprised. “Sorry, Captain.”

“What do you want?” Sheridan asked, his tone snappy.

The other Captain's expression of surprise grew, and then he frowned. “You've forgotten, haven't you.”

Sheridan grew uneasy, and slightly guilty. “Forgot what?”

“Meeting with the transport association.”

“Oh. That. Actually, I thought I'd leave you to it as you handled the dockers' guild so well last time....”

Sinclair shook his head and took hold of Sheridan's elbow, steering him around. “Not a chance. If I have to suffer, so do you, Captain.”

Sheridan rolled his eyes but allowed himself to be dragged along for a while. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Fine,” Sinclair replied, frowning slightly. “Should I be feeling any different?”

“Dammit, Jeff, you could have died!” Sheridan snapped as quietly as he could manage.

But Sinclair just smiled. “You sound like Ivanova.”

Sheridan sighed and stopped without warning. “Jeff, I need to talk to you about...about Susan...and you.”

The two men stared at each other for a long moment. “Go on.”

“I know. About you two. About you crossing that line. And I don't know what to do.”

Sinclair could feel his muscles hardening and his senses focusing, his body preparing to fight, and Sheridan must have noticed as well as he took a step back. They continued to stare at each other, unblinking, each waiting for the other to make a move.

 _“Ivanova to Sheridan. As much as I know you don't want to attend the meeting, you really don't have a choice. And I know Captain Sinclair is with you as well. So I would appreciate it if you both got up here before I put my own, personal diplomatic skills into play,”_ Sheridan's link ordered them both quite crisply.

“Saved by the bell,” Sheridan muttered, his tone slightly sarcastic. “But this discussion is far from over.”

“I can hardly wait,” Sinclair replied.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Garibaldi was pacing slowly around the office when Sinclair, Sheridan and Ivanova entered. “Looks like someone's in trouble,” he remarked mildly. “I'm just not sure who.”

Ivanova was glaring at Sheridan; Sheridan was glaring at Sinclair; and Sinclair just looked ready to explode at the next poor unsuspecting soul who passed his way. “What is it, Chief?”

“Nothing. I just thought I'd see how the meeting went with the transport association. Did they accept the new ship screening policy?” Garibaldi asked. Each other senior member made some sort of grunting noise and rolled their eyes as they turned away. “I'll take that as a no.”

“It almost didn't matter,” Ivanova stated in a tone of voice the security chief recognised all too well.

“Uhoh. Who did what?”

“ _Somebody_ thought it would be a good idea to into the crowd and hand one particularly angry man a PPG,” Ivanova explained.

Garibaldi turned to Sinclair. “Really?”

Sinclair shook his head. “Not me. Him.”

Garibaldi turned to Sheridan, his eyes wide. “Really?” he repeated in a completely different tone of voice.

“What he failed to mention, however, was that he took the cap out of the PPG before handing to the man,” Ivanova finished, still glaring at the younger Captain.

Garibaldi started to look from one to the other, and eventually just said, “Oh,” because while he could see why Ivanova would be upset, he was actually somewhat impressed with Sheridan initiative, though it was the kind of move he would have associated with Sinclair instead.

“And then we had a visit from a Counselor Na'Far,” Sheridan said, hoping to deflect the conversation and attention away from himself.

“Who?”

“He's here to replace G'Kar as the Narn representative,” Sinclair explained, sighing heavily. “And he wanted our help with the...transition.”

“Let me guess, you said no.” Garibaldi looked around at everyone again. “You did say no, right?”

“We said no, Michael,” Sinclair assured him. “Whatever Na'Far wants, he'll have to work it out with G'Kar alone.”

“But we don't want him to leave, do we? I mean, we had this last year. We want G'Kar to stay because he's a known quantity and he can keep the Narns under control.”

Sheridan shook his head. “It isn't that simple, Mr Garibaldi. If the Centauri insist, which they seem to be doing, there isn't much we can do at all. G'Kar will stay, of course.”

“But how would that work?” Ivanova asked. “Na'Far would have no power at all and the Centauri, and the Narns, know that. If he does succeed G'Kar, G'Kar will have to go.”

“No,” Sinclair and Sheridan said forcefully at the same time.

“I agree, Captains,” she continued. “But we might not have a choice.”

“Look, let's worry about it tomorrow. How about a drink in Airharts? Stephen's going to meet me there, and if would be nice if you joined us,” Garibaldi said.

Sheridan shook his head. “Not for me,” he replied and walked away.

Sinclair forced a smile. “Sure, Michael, we'll meet you there.”

“We will?” Ivanova asked when they were alone.

“Susan, John knows...about us.”

Ivanova stared at him. “What do you mean 'he knows'?”

“That we're...together,” Sinclair replied quietly.

“Is that your intuition talking or...?”

“He told me,” he interrupted her.

Ivanova turned and started to pace slowly. Memories of what she had learnt during their time trapped in the transport tube came flooding back to her. 

_“You said you thought you'd lost me. I wanted to tell you then, tell you it was true. Because in that future I know I died just before setting the bomb, leaving Michael to finish the job.”_

A few short months that had known each other at that time and still her feelings for Sinclair were so strong that the thought of losing him was like physical pain to her.

_“...You and I were together. A couple. And we were still here on Babylon 5. We were happy, it was working, and...I think it was in the near future as well.”_

A ray of hope through everything he had told her, a possibility she believed whole-heartedly in.

_“You were wearing a different uniform, a black one. Still Earthforce, but...not. You were sending a distress signal because we were being invaded; almost everyone else on board had been killed.”_

It made no sense, and yet for reasons she couldn't quite explain, Ivanova believed him. Maybe it was because she always believed him, because she knew he always told her the truth, but there was something deeper involved like she _knew_ it could happen.

_“When I went to rescue Sheridan, there was a temporal rift open and again, I saw...things. I saw glimpses of...I suppose an alternate timeline, if there is such a thing,” Sinclair explained. “I didn't come back to Babylon 5 after Santiago's death. I was on Minbar, as an ambassador, training the Rangers. And you carried on without me. There was no 'us'. But I came back to Babylon 5 on a mission, though I don't know what it was. You...you were wearing the same black uniform I saw in a vision from the first visit to Babylon 4. You, me, Sheridan, Delenn, Lennier and Marcus then embarked on a trip to Sector 14...to Babylon 4.”_

Ivanova hadn't told Sinclair, but that was the memory that still gave her chills, gave her nightmares just to think about. Was it possible? Were there alternate timelines out there? She didn't know, and she didn't really like the idea either. But the last thing he told her was the one she couldn't forget, couldn't ignore, because she too knew it was true.

_“The real reason I didn't want to take our relationship any further.... Very soon I will go to Z'ha'dum. And I will die. I know in my soul it can't be avoided. I just don't know why.”_

But she didn't believe it couldn't be avoided. Every spare second she had, Ivanova had been thinking of ways around the problem, and wondering what could possibly make Sinclair leave the station, abandon her and everyone on it. And then she would remember the pain she felt, the anguish and the torment, after he had left after the assassination of President Santiago, when she wasn't sure if she would ever see him again or not. That had been bad enough to deal with, but they hadn't been as close as they were now. If she lost him now....

“Susan?”

Ivanova turned to see Sinclair stood close behind her, his handsome face etched with concern. “Sorry. I was thinking.”

“I could see that,” he replied, frowning.

“Not now, Jeff. Let's not talk about it now, okay?” She forced a smile and laid her hand on his arm. “Let's got and meet Michael and Stephen, have a few drinks, and just relax. I think we've earned it.”

Sinclair smiled back. “Alright.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Garibaldi was in the middle of a story when they arrived in Airharts, and Sinclair smiled after hearing just a few words as it was a story he was very familiar with. But then he noticed Franklin's exhausted expression and he frowned. Despite everything that had been going on recently, he had seen a change in the doctor's behaviour, ever since the plague that made the Markhabs extinct.

“Captain Sheridan not joining us?” Garibaldi asked, pausing in his story when he saw them.

“He had things to attend to,” Ivanova replied, spreading her hands to indicate she didn't know what those 'things' were.

“I'm a little worried about him, to be honest,” Franklin said, leaning heavily on the table. “He's been under an extreme amount of pressure recently and he....” The doctor trailed off as he felt three pairs of eyes staring at him, two harshly, one an odd mixture of concern and amusement. “What? He's not stood behind me, is he?”

Ivanova gave a short, incredulous laugh. “No, but there are two Captains on the station, in case you'd forgotten.”

“And I'm pretty sure both of them have been under just as much stress,” Garibaldi added.

Franklin blinked several times, then focussed on Sinclair, whose vague amusement was definitely giving way to concern. “Well, you know what I meant,” he replied snappily. Then his link went off. “What?”

_“I'm sorry, Dr Franklin, but we need to you to cover an extra shift.”_

Franklin dragged a hand wearily over his face. “Fine, fine, I'll be there in...ten minutes.”

“Is that a good idea?” Sinclair asked.

“Somebody has to do it,” he said in a terse voice.

“And there are other doctors. You need a break, Stephen.”

“I'm fine.”

Garibaldi watched someone walk past, then turned back in his seat. “She did it again.”

“Who did what?” Ivanova asked.

“One of the crew keeps walking past our table, giving Stephen 'those eyes',” Garibaldi said with a smile and a wink.

Ivanova smiled back, then nudged Franklin. “Why don't you ask her for a dance, Stephen? You've got time for that before your shift.”

“No, I don't,” Franklin snapped irritably before standing abruptly. “I'm going to the bathroom.”

“Is it me or is he has he not been himself lately?” Garibaldi asked.

Sinclair sighed. “He hasn't been himself since the Markhab incident.”

Garibaldi sobered. “That was tough on all of us.” Then he looked around and hunched over the table. “So I looked through Sheridan's file when he came on board the station. You know, just to get an idea of who this guy was and how he'd fit in here.”

“Garibaldi, that's classified,” Ivanova chided him with a smile.

“So?”

“Did you look at my file?” she asked.

“That, Commander, is classified,” Garibaldi retorted.

Sinclair laughed and shook his head. He was well aware of Garibaldi's tactics, having been subjected to them himself, and while the two of them were talking, he allowed his mind to drift to a more urgent matter. There was more to Franklin's erratic behaviour than Sinclair had admitted, and an ugly suspicion was starting to form in his mind as to what the problem was.

_“Alright, Captain, your turn,” Franklin said to him briskly._

_Sinclair shuffled awkwardly into the examination room, his body now starting to seize up and complain about the treatment it had been through. “How is Ivanova?” he asked._

_Franklin glanced at him sharply. “She's fine. No need to examine her yourself.”_

_Sinclair stared at him. “What did you say?” he inquired, his voice cold._

_“Nothing, Captain,” the doctor replied, his tone suddenly weary. “Let's see what the damage is this time.”_

_As Sinclair started to awkward peel off his jacket and shirt, he watched Franklin's movements, which were becoming slow and jerky. “I'm fine, Stephen,” he said. “I just need to rest, which I will, I promise.”_

_Franklin spun on his heel suddenly, his face dark with anger. “No, you're not 'fine'. You were trapped in a transport tube following an explosion; you could have died. You both could have died. Stop being so damned cavalier about these situations. You run headlong into danger and you don't think about how it affects the rest of us! Have a little more consideration, not just as a Captain for his crew, but as a person for his friends.”_

_Sinclair stayed silent while Franklin examined him, mulling the doctor's words over in his mind. When he had finished, the Captain asked quietly, “Can I go now?”_

_“Yes. I would tell you to rest for a few days but I know that isn't going to happen.”_

_“Stephen....”_

_“I have to check on Mr Lennier,” Franklin said, and left abruptly._

That had only been a few days ago, and it brought to mind a question. “Susan, I've been meaning to ask you, how was Stephen when he examined you after we were rescued from the transport tube?”

Ivanova looked surprised at the sudden shift in conversation, as she and Garibaldi had been discussing Sheridan's capabilities of dealing with whatever was ahead. “He was fine. Why?”

“Was he cheerful? Snappy?” Sinclair asked.

“He was his normal self,” Ivanova replied. “I don't mean like he is now, I mean like he usually is. We were joking with each other, though he was concerned about what had happened, obviously. Why?”

Sinclair forced a smile. “Just curious.”

Just then, Franklin reappeared with a spring in his step, and stopped next to Garibaldi. “Alright, Michael, I'm going to ask that pretty lady to dance before my shift. Watch my back, I'm going in!” he announced with a grin and swiftly moved off.

Ivanova laughed at his antics, but when she turned, Sinclair and Garibaldi were looking at each other. “What am I missing?” she asked.

“Something,” Garibaldi replied.

Sinclair nodded in agreement and looked back at Franklin, who was now dancing merrily. “Something.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan paced the Zen garden restlessly, carrying out a silent argument with himself. On the one hand, his ingrained soldier's instincts and code of honour screamed at him that Sinclair and Ivanova's relationship was inappropriate at best, a court-marshalling offence at worst. Yet the other half of him, the half he was starting to realise was influenced by Delenn, and his own heart, wondered what the problem was. He knew that whether the two officers were in a relationship or not, open about it or not, it wouldn't make any difference to how they felt about each other. And no matter how he tried, he could not reconcile the problem.

“You think very loudly.”

Sheridan smiled despite himself as he turned to see Delenn stood there, an amused yet concerned expression on her face. “Well maybe I was just hoping you'd hear me,” he admitted softly.

He was aware it was a bold choice of words, but given her shift in expression, not entirely the wrong thing to say. “And what is on your mind, Captain?”

“Something we've discussed before and that I seem to have changed my mind about,” Sheridan said.

“And that is?”

He sighed. “Sinclair and Ivanova.”

Delenn pursed her lips and moved away from him to sit down on the bench. “Do you remember when we visited Draal last year?”

“Of course. How could I forget?” he replied, not sure where the conversation was heading.

“And he told you he knew about your battle with your own government.”

“Yes.”

“Is that not the problem?” she asked.

Sheridan frowned as he sat down. “What do you mean?”

“You are a fighter, John. A warrior. Yet you cannot fight your own government here and now as you would wish. You have to be patient and careful, and that is not you.” Delenn smiled to rob her words of any offence. “So you are looking for other ways to channel that energy, looking for other battles to fight. And you see Jeff and Susan's relationship as being wrong and want to 'fix' it. But John...you will do more harm than good, and I think deep down, you know this too.”

Sheridan opened his mouth to reply when his link went off. “Sheridan, go.”

_“Captain, I think you should come up to C &C. We're picking something up.”_

“On my way.” He stood. “I'm sorry, Delenn.”

“The conversation can wait, Captain,” she replied. “But it is not over.”

“I don't doubt that.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair noted Sheridan walking down the corridor towards them, noted how deep in thought the other Captain looked, and felt that Franklin may have been right; Sheridan had been under a lot of pressure lately and didn't seem to wearing it as well as he, Sinclair, felt he was. Though maybe his view was jaded; he had seen the extra looks of concern Garibaldi and Ivanova had flashed his way when they thought he couldn't see them.

“Do you know what this is about?” Sinclair asked.

Sheridan's head snapped up and the surprise etched on his face clearly showed he wasn't aware of their presence at all. His eyes flashed at Sinclair for some reason, but with Ivanova and Garibaldi stood behind the other Captain, he didn't want to make a scene. “No idea. Let's find out.”

Garibaldi just raised his eyes at Ivanova as they followed the two Captains onto the command deck. “We've been monitoring an alien probe that has entered Babylon 5 space,” Corwin explained, noting the expressions on his seniors' faces. “It is of no known design, and appears to have no weapon systems.” The console beeped and Corwin studied it, frowning. “We're picking up a series of repeating signals.” He looked apologetic. “It will take the computers several hours to decode it.”

“Get started,” Sheridan ordered.

Sinclair gave him a piercing stare. “Captain, a moment?”

“Not now,” Sheridan replied, and walked off the command deck.

“Am I missing something?” Garibaldi asked.

Ivanova just shrugged. “You're not the only one.”

“Listen, I've got to go. I'm making dinner for Stephen.”

Sinclair looked at Garibaldi. “Are you going to talk to him about what's going on?” he asked quietly.

“That was my plan.”

“Tread lightly, Michael.”

Garibaldi looked affronted. “Subtle is my middle name,” he said, winking before he walked off.

“Garibaldi is about as subtle as the fusion reactor exploding,” Ivanova remarked dryly.

“I know.” Sinclair glanced at her curiously. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine. Why?”

“This...thing with Sheridan.”

Ivanova shrugged again. “We can't change his mind, whatever he's got his mind set on,” she said quietly. “And it doesn't change...things between us, no matter what he decides.”

“You've been spending too much time with Delenn.”

“You need to spend more time with her,” she retorted before heading for her station.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Captain?”

Sheridan looked up from his drink, surprised to see Delenn stood next to him. “Ambassador. Is there a problem?”

“Not at all. I was passing and saw you here....”

“And you wanted to continue our earlier conversation.”

Delenn smiled faintly. “Actually, I wondered if we could simply talk...as friends.”

A genuine smile spread across Sheridan's face. “Of course. You want to stay here?”

“Yes, I think I would like to....socialise as you do.”

He laughed. “I don't do much socialising but I know what you mean.”

“Neither do I.” The bartender came over and Delenn politely ordered a drink. “I saw you talking to a Narn just now and he looked familiar.”

Sheridan nodded. “Ta'Lon. We rescued him from the Streib ship last year.”

“Ah, yes. He is well?”

“Very well, though it took him a while to heal.” Sheridan laughed. “Actually, he wanted to repay a debt...to me. He offered to become my bodyguard.”

Delenn smiled. “A very generous off. Did you accept?”

“A Narn bodyguard would look very out of place, but I did acknowledge the debt,” Sheridan replied.

“And yet something troubles you about it.”

“Two of us rescued him from that ship.”

“But you are the one who spared his life.”

“I know, I just....”

“You and Jeff are equals. You see even this decision as something you should make together,” Delenn guessed.

Sheridan nodded. “Yes, I do. But we're not equals, are we?”

Delenn knew what he was talking about. “No, you are no. But no two people ever are because they are different.” She sipped her drink. “I had a visit from Londo.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “He asked me to reinstate a Centauri ambassador on Minbar.”

“Bit of a bold move, considering everything that's going on,” Sheridan noted.

“He wants to appoint Vir.”

“Oh.” Sheridan couldn't think of anything else to say. “Is that wise?”

“I think Londo is trying to protect Vir from whatever is going on,” Delenn admitted. “I just think that both would be better staying together.”

Sheridan sighed. “Go on, Delenn. Lecture me about...you know.”

She gave him a reproachable look. “I would never lecture you, Captain. Merely encourage you to see a different point of view.”

He sighed. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. It's just...I wish I could just accept what was going on.”

“Then do it.”

“It isn't that simple.”

“Yes, it is.” Delenn stared into the distance. “I have noticed many races will complicate the simple things, but none more so than humans.” She turned and lowered her voice. “John, what you are involved in, it will be dangerous. It could well change everything you know. And if that is the case, does this...attachment really matter. Who would you report it to? Who could you trust to tell? And if there is such a person, what would they say?”

Sheridan thought about Hague and he had an idea of what the General's response would be. “That right now there are bigger concerns and as long as the ability to do the job, or what is needed when the times arises, isn't compromised, it's something that can be dealt with later. If there is a later.”

Delenn smiled at him. “As much as I enjoy our conversations, I do not wish to have this one again,” she said.

Sheridan sighed and held his hands up. “Alright, I give in. I will just...accept it. For now.”

“What do you call it? Deja vu?”

“Yes.”

“I am having a strong sense of that.”

Sheridan glared at her. “It's difficult.”

“Why?” Delenn asked.

He looked at her and his mouth suddenly went dry. He wanted to tell her that he had realised a part of him was jealous of Sinclair and Ivanova, and the fact that had chosen to be with the one they loved, whereas he could not. And while 'love' was perhaps too strong a word, he still couldn't show someone just how much he cared about them. He had to keep it hidden, and he hated that.

Delenn watched the expression on Sheridan's face change with interest, wondering what was going through his mind, and accepting she would never know. But just as he was about to speak, his link went off.

“I'm sorry,” Sheridan said. “Sheridan, go.”

 _“Captain, you need to come up to C &C. We've made some progress on the probe,”_ Ivanova told him.

“On my way.” He stood. “Thank you, Ambassador.”

“My pleasure, Captain.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair's expression was grim as he walked onto the command deck. It didn't feel like hours since he had last been there, and although he had accomplished plenty in the office, he had been distracted by other things. The probe, for one, which was a complete unknown for them. Sheridan's behaviour and what he would do next another. Franklin's erratic behaviour, and Garibaldi's recent revelation on that score something else again.

“That is not a happy face,” Ivanova said to him as he came to stand next to her.

“I know.”

“I would offer you a hug....”

Sinclair smiled despite himself. “That would definitely ruin your reputation, Commander.”

Ivanova just shrugged. “So, why the long face?”

“Michael had a talk with Stephen,” he said, lowering his voice.

“And?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.

“It seems the Doctor did use stims back in Airharts. It also appears he's purposefully taking extra shifts even though he's overworked as it is.”

Ivanova shook her head. “What can we do?”

“Stephen has assured Michael that it isn't a problem.” Sinclair shrugged. “I don't think there's much else we can do right now.”

“Are you going to tell Captain Sheridan?” she asked.

“Not right now. He's got enough on his mind.” Sinclair took a breath. “Now, about this probe.”

“Yes.” Ivanova's expression changed instantly. “It seems that....” Her gaze shifted. “Captain.”

“Commander,” Sheridan acknowledged her. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing, sir. I was just about to explain what we know so far about the probe, but this saves me having to repeat myself.” She turned and looked at the console. “It seems it was sent to initiate contact with other life forms, and is promising cures for every known disease and highly advanced technology.”

“But?” Sheridan asked, sensing a catch.

“We have to answer just over six hundred questions in the next twenty four hours,” Ivanova replied. “A lot of them are extremely complex scientific and mathematical fields.” She shook her head. “I'm not sure we can do this on our own.”

Sinclair picked up a note in her voice. “What happens if we don't answer the questions correctly?”

Sheridan glanced at him, then back at Ivanova, whose expression was grim. “The probe will self-destruct, causing a five hundred thousand megaton explosion. We'll be vaporised.”

“Well, at least we wouldn't have to attend that damned transport association meeting,” Sheridan said lightly.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“So, death probe. That's a new one,” Garibaldi said as they sat around the Captains' office discussing the latest problem.

“Which would you prefer, Mr Garibaldi? Death probe or killer planet?” Sheridan asked.

Garibaldi looked at Sinclair. “He's got a point.”

Sinclair looked at Sheridan. “He usually does.”

“I've looked through the list of questions,” Ivanova said, attempting to keep the conversation on track. “A lot are extremely technical, and some are purely theoretical. If we do decide to answer them, we'll have to send some questions back to Earth.” They all exchanged glances over that suggestion. “I don't like it either but in the grand scheme of things, no one wants to see us get blown up. At least I hope they don't.”

“Do it,” Sheridan ordered her.

“Are we sure we even want to answer the questions?” Sinclair asked.

“Jeff, didn't you hear the whole death probe bit?” Garibaldi inquired, frowning at his friend.

“Yes, Chief, I heard it, but something about this whole situation doesn't feel right.”

Sheridan looked at him. “Gut feelings, Captain? Instinct?”

His tone was faintly mocking and Sinclair felt his shoulders tense. “Is there anything we can do while we wait?”

Ivanova shook her head. “I've sent a list of questions to the right people on board Babylon 5. The rest, as we've just agreed, need to be sent back to Earth.”

“We could talk about the weather,” Garibaldi suggested.

Sinclair glared at him, but Sheridan's expression shifted. “Actually, there is something else. I'm not sure how important it is but Delenn was telling me that Londo has requested that Vir be transferred off the station.”

“To where?” Ivanova asked with a frown.

“Minbar,” Sheridan replied.

Garibaldi looked perplexed. “Why would he do that? He needs Vir here.”

Sheridan spread his hands. “I don't know. Do we know any more about G'Kar's situation?”

“Not yet,” Sinclair replied. “And that worries me.”

“I'd be more concerned with the death probe,” Sheridan pointed out.

“That worries me too.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Where are we at with the questions?” Sheridan asked, his face etched with concern.

“Six hours left and seventy five questions to answer,” Ivanova replied.

“We need to work faster.”

“We're working as fast as we can,” she snapped back.

Sinclair came up to them at that moment, a false smile on his face. “Captain, Commander. I know this situation is tough on all of us but let's try to keep our professionalism in place. Let's not show everyone how worried we are.”

“Stick it, Captain,” Sheridan said through gritted teeth, walking off.

Sinclair closed his eyes and counted to ten. “Did you contact Stephen?”

“Yes, and I got my head bitten off for my troubles,” Ivanova replied bitterly.

He looked at her for a long minute. “Come with me.”

She looked at him curiously but followed anyway, missing the strange expression on Sheridan's face as they passed him; Sinclair, however, caught it, and pushed a conversation with the other Captain further up his to do list. As soon as they entered the Captains' office, Sinclair opened his arms and enveloped Ivanova.

“I know this is tough and I know you're worried, about Stephen, about Sheridan, about us, but we'll get through this.”

“I know,” she replied, her voice muffled by his uniform.

“What did Stephen say?” Sinclair asked.

“Just that he was working on it and that he was busy. He didn't look himself, Jeff,” Ivanova told him.

He sighed heavily. “I know, but if he says he's fine, there isn't much else we can do. Leaning on him won't help; he's as stubborn as Garibaldi.”

She smiled then. “I thought you were going to say me.”

“It did cross my mind.” He kissed her quickly, squeezed her arms and let go. “So, seventy five questions in six hours. What does your Russian optimism think of our chances?”

“Moderate. Though chances of what?”

Sinclair smiled back, but before he could reply, Garibaldi walked in. “I'm glad I caught you,” he said. “I just heard that Stephen exploded at a doctor on Earth when he found out they didn't have all the answers to the questions he sent them. Apparently he threatened to do all he could to discredit her before he died.”

Sinclair scowled and swore. “I wouldn't have said that, but I have to agree,” Ivanova replied.

“Look, maybe he's just stressed. It does seem to be going around. I mean, have you looked at Sheridan lately?” Garibaldi asked, then pulled a face. “Please tell me he isn't behind me.”

“No, Michael, you're safe,” Sinclair said, smiling slightly.

“We have another problem as well.”

“Can't it wait until we've solved this one?” Ivanova asked. “Death probe and all that.”

Garibaldi shook his head. “I don't think so. G'Kar is leaving.”

“What?” Sinclair exclaimed.

“The families of the Narns on board the station are being threatened unless he returns to Narn. He explained his reasons, I tried to tell him why he should go back....”

“Top reason being that the Centauri will kill him the minute he steps foot on Narn,” Ivanova interrupted.

Garibaldi nodded. “And he's aware of that, but he believes this is the only way. Believe me, I tried to convince him to stay. It didn't work.”

“What didn't work?” Sheridan asked as he entered the room. The security chief briefly explained what they had been discussing. “We can't worry about that right now. If we don't get these questions answered, none of us will be going anywhere.” He looked directly at Sinclair. “We had the transport association demanding another meeting. Apparently they don't know we're in the middle of a crisis.”

“What did you say?”

“We have six hours to solve this problem, right?”

“Yes.”

“I rescheduled the meeting for seven hours time.”

Garibaldi and Ivanova managed to hide a smile at his nonchalance; Sinclair didn't quite manage it. “Good thinking.” He then turned to the other officers. “Ivanova, go and ask Corwin about the possibility of powering up our defence grid slowly so that the probe won't be able to detect it. Just in case.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied, turning and walking away, but not before she surreptitiously tugged on Garibaldi's elbow to get him to follow.

“Whatever's on your mind, John, say it,” Sinclair said, suddenly wearily. He sank down on the sofa and sighed. “Tell me how wrong I am. Tell me how against it you are. Tell me it's breaking all the rules which have been instilled in us. Tell me how disappointed you are in me, in us.” He looked up, his eyes haunted and defiant at the same time. “Tell me how you're going to ruin at least one career over this.”

Sheridan sighed as well, suddenly deflated. He perched himself on the arm of the opposite sofa. “Half of me wants to, Jeff. But half of me understands, is even happy for you...and a little bit jealous. And I _know_ that whether you and Susan are together or not, it won't stop you from caring about each other. I'm just worried about setting a precedence rather than an exception to the rules.

“John, everything we're doing...where is the precedence for that? I'm not saying that excuses our actions,” Sinclair continued quickly. “But on a scale of one to disastrous....”

“Or killer probe.”

He smiled. “Or killer probe, where are we?”

“Exploding planet,” Sheridan replied with a straight face. “I'm just having a hard time accepting it.”

“I can understand that, although I don't have the same problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“You and Delenn.” Sinclair's smile grew. “I'm not blind, John. And while the two of you might not be quite there yet, you will be eventually. When you both let go of the limitations you've placed on yourselves.”

Sheridan purposefully ignored him. “I just don't want to see Susan hurt.”

“I can't promise that,” Sinclair replied honestly. “Nature of the job. You know that.”

“I do. I also don't want to see you hurt. If something happens to either of you....”

“You're worried you won't be able to do this alone.”

“Yes, I am,” Sheridan replied.

Sinclair sat back. “When Susan first came on board the station, there was a spark between us immediately. We both ignored it, fought it, and in the later part of that year, something happened. We fought it even more strongly; we fought each other. We didn't want to be near each other, to the point where we couldn't stand the sight of each other. And do you know what happened? Neither of us could function. Neither of us could think straight, and our ability to run this station and care for the people on board was affected. We know now why we behaved that way; we were influenced by the Shadows.” Sheridan drew a sharp breath. “But they only amplified what was already there. Once we acknowledged there was something between us, we worked better. We function better.” He sighed. “I believe in destiny, John. And in time, you will too. I believe that things happen for a reason, and fighting the flow doesn't work. I think you and I were meant to be here together. Just like I believe G'Kar is meant to stay on this station. Like I believe Garibaldi, Franklin and Ivanova are all in the right place at the right time. Like I believe we'll get through this crisis like we've gotten through so many others.” He stood. “I'm not asking for your blessing or even your acceptance. I'm asking you not to tear us apart. We'll be discreet, we won't let our relationship interfere with our work. But we are together.”

Sheridan was silent for several moments before he too stood up. “Thank you for your honesty, Jeff. And I hope that some time in the future, I can accept your relationship with Susan, and give you both my blessing. But that isn't right now.” He looked down briefly, then back up. “But I won't ruin either of your careers.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

“Only because I'm worried of what Garibaldi might do,” Sheridan clarified. “Something tells me he's very adept at hiding bodies.”

Sinclair laughed loudly. “Come on. Let's go and argue over what to do about this probe.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Three minutes. That was the time that remained, and Ivanova had reached the stage where she actually wanted to probe to obliterate the station; at least that way she would get some peace and quiet. Ever since the Captains' had returned to C&C, they had done nothing but argue. There had been brief respites when one had left for a break, but other than that, that had stood at either side of the observation deck and shouted at each other.

“So much for professionalism,” Ivanova had muttered more than once and at varying levels of loudness as well.

Currently their positions had not changed; Sinclair didn't want to submit the answers, Sheridan did. Neither wanted to explain why they had made that decision, though, and Ivanova was growing increasingly frustrated with both of them.

Snapping was inevitable.

“We have three minutes! Make a decision or I'll do it for you!” she shouted at them.

Sinclair and Sheridan stopped, surprised, then stared at each other. When they started talking again, they were still disagreeing, except now they had changed views; each was arguing the other's case.

“This is getting us nowhere,” Sinclair said eventually.

“At least we can agree on that.” Sheridan shook his head. “Why don't you want to send the answers?”

“Doesn't it seem a little strange to you, Sheridan, that an advanced race would want to give a less-advanced race technology beyond their own?” Sinclair asked.

The other Captain nodded slowly. “In which case, wanting to eliminate us wouldn't make any sense. Unless....”

“It's a ruse. Designed to destroy those races who pose a threat to the probe's creators, not those who haven't reached a certain level of technological awareness.”

“Thirty seconds,” Ivanova intoned. Sheridan frowned thoughtfully. “Twenty seconds.”

Finally, he relented. “Alright, Captain, it's your call.”

“Fifteen seconds.”

“Don't send the information. Repeat, do not send the information,” Sinclair ordered

Complete silence fell over the command deck as everyone held a collective breath. The deadline approached....arrived....and passed. Outside, the probe began to move away from the station and inside, everyone exhaled loudly.

“When the probe reaches a safe distance from us, Commander, relay the answers through a securebot,” Sinclair said quietly.

“Captain?” Sheridan asked.

“If I'm right, and that probe is going to destroy technologically advanced races, we need to stop it.” He then smiled. “Besides, I'm curious to see what will happen.”

“Sending answers,” Ivanova announced. Seconds later, there was a massive explosion outside, the probe and securebot completely destroyed. “I would call that a definitive answer.”

“See if you can recover any debris for studying,” Sinclair told her, still smiling. Then he turned to Sheridan. “What is it?”

The younger Captain's face was less than happy. “You know what this means, don't you?”

“We survived?” Ivanova asked.

“It means we now have to face the damned transport association again,” he lamented.

Sinclair and Ivanova glanced very briefly at each other and looked away quickly, not trusting themselves to stay serious.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Garibaldi sat back in his seat, finally relaxing after the last couple of days. Franklin had stayed for a couple of drinks, then excused himself to get some sleep. The security chief was glad the stims weren't a problem for the doctor; he knew what addiction could do to a person, remembered the brief relapse he had with alcohol not too long ago, and he didn't want to see his friend making the same mistakes.

“I'm pretty sure you're supposed to leave that face at the door.”

“Something this handsome? I want it will me at all times,” Garibaldi replied, looking up at Sinclair. “Aren't supposed to be somewhere?”

“No,” the Captain replied, smirking.

“Alright, how did you do it?”

“Killer probe,” Sinclair replied as he sat down. “Saved the day. Besides, Sheridan actually offered.”

“Probably before you suggested it.” Garibaldi looked long and hard at his friend. “How you doing, Jeff?”

“Fine. Why?”

“People seem to be suffering from stress,” the security chief said seriously. “I don't mean your garden variety either. I mean the bad stuff.”

“You mean Dr Franklin,” Sinclair said.

“And Captain Sheridan. Even Ivanova's looking grimmer than usual.”

“Don't let her hear you say that.”

“I don't plan on doing,” Garibaldi assured him. “But you, you just keep going. Or so it seems. So I have to ask; how are you? Seriously.”

“Seriously, Michael, I'm okay. Yes, we have a lot going on right now, and yes, some of us are more stressed than others and that's inevitable. But I'm not one of them. Yet,” Sinclair explained.

Garibaldi held his hands up. “Fair enough. Next question.”

“Go on.”

“What's going on between you and Sheridan? And don't say nothing.”

Sinclair sighed. “I wasn't going to.” He leant forward and lowered his voice. “He recently learnt something he's having a hard time accepting, something he's had an idea about for a long time but managed to ignore. But now he can't and he was wondering how to handle it.”

“And now?”

“We have an understanding. For the time being.”

“So, you and Ivanova, huh?” Garibaldi asked mildly. “For real?”

Sinclair couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face. “For real.”

“Do I need to tell you to be careful?”

“We won't be announcing it to the entire station,” Sinclair assured him. “In fact, only three people know for sure right now.”

“Me, Sheridan and Franklin?”

“Stephen might have his suspicions, but he doesn't know.”

“Okay....” Garibaldi was thoughtful for a moment. “Delenn. Of course.” His expression became curious. “And she's okay with it?”

“More than.” Sinclair stared at his friend. “But what about you, Michael?”

Garibaldi looked surprised. “Me? You have to ask, Jeff?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I'm thrilled. I know we have rules and regulations, but I'm not career military, I don't see things as black and white as everyone else.” He paused, finding the right words. “Jeff, I've watched you and Susan dance around each other since day one. And I know I've warned you to be careful, but given everything else that's going on, 'being careful' seems like pointless advice. And I know how good you are for each other, and it's about damned time someone around here was happy. Sure, I'm as jealous as hell as well, but I'm glad you've both finally gotten your act together.”

Sinclair swallowed hard and reached across the table, gripping Garibaldi's shoulder. “Thank you, Michael. Your support means a lot to me.”

“Hey, no problem. That's what friends are for, right?”

Sinclair raised his glass. “Friends.”

Garibaldi smiled back. “Friends.”

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hadn't planned on having that particular conversation between Sinclair and Sheridan so early on in Season 3, and I hadn't planned on it going that way either. In fact, this story most definitely has a life of its own at the minute.... Hope it's not going off the rails too much for you!


	51. 304 Passing Through Gethsemane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can only apologise (a lot!) for taking so long to update this story. I have been really, really busy with hardly any time to write, and when I do have the time, I don't have muse. I've been writing this chapter for about 9 months now..... So I apologise as well if it doesn't flow properly or seem disjointed - I can only hope it does the job, and that the next chapter won't be so long in the making! A huge thanks to anyone who is still being patient with me and following this story. :)

_January 2260_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair sat in the office with his legs stretched out in front of him, hands folded in his lap, eyes closed. It was quiet, for a change, and he was enjoying it while it lasted. Other issues wanting to be thought about kept trying to push their way into his mind and he tried hard to ignore them, but it was difficult. There was frustration and guilt over the lack of time he had lately to train the Rangers, and himself; since the start of the year, there hadn't been an opportunity as they seemed to have gone straight from one crisis to another to another. He knew it shouldn't be an excuse, knew he, as Entil'zha, should _make_ the time, but it was easier said than done. An idea was creeping around the edge of his mind, but given recent events, he wasn't sure now was the time to voice it.

And he had spent very little time Ivanova as well, which always pained him, and he started to visualise their upcoming schedule, wondering when their shifts would coincide, allowing them the same down time. There wasn't anything, and he was tempted to reshuffle the schedule.

_“Captain Sinclair.”_

He sighed. “Yes.”

_“Sir, Ambassador Kosh's ship is about to dock. He has requested someone meet it.”_

“Did he say why?” Sinclair asked, then rolled his eyes. “Never mind, of course he didn't.” Something about the Vorlon's request sparked a notion in the Captain, one that he couldn't explain. “I'll take care of it, thank you.” That did not, however, mean he was going to deal with it himself. “Sinclair to Ivanova.”

There was a delay before she answered. _“Yes, Captain?”_

“Who's winning?” he asked, smiling.

 _“I'm not sure I can answer that,”_ Ivanova replied.

“Very diplomatic. Please report to Bay 13, Commander,” Sinclair said, shifting his tone to one of authority. “Ambassador Kosh has requested his ship be met.”

 _“I'm on my way,”_ Ivanova said crisply.

Just before she cut the link, he heard Brother Theo beat Sheridan, both at chess and the battle of wits that seemed to have ensued. Somehow, he wasn't surprised. The monk and his brothers had proved themselves excellent workers and a surprising source of comfort for many on the station, human and alien alike. Sinclair himself had enjoyed a few short, but in depth and thought-provoking conversations with Theo already, but he could see how the monk's somewhat acerbic personality would grate on Sheridan's nerves.

Closing his eyes again, Sinclair returned to his meditative state until some time later, he was aware of another person in the office. “How long have you been sat there?” he asked curiously as he stretched.

“A while,” Sheridan replied, equally curiously. “Didn't you hear me come in?”

“I didn't know you were there,” Sinclair said honestly. “How was the chess game?”

Sheridan pulled a face. “Let's just say Brother Theo is a...formidable opponent.”

Sinclair laughed. “I'm sure he would take that as a great compliment.”

“No doubt. Brother Edward interests me. He has a very shy, retiring way about him, yet he's highly intelligent and very talented.” Sheridan explained about the figure Edward was working on. “Why did Kosh want someone to meet his ship?”

“I don't know but I'm sure we'll find out soon,” Sinclair replied.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“So...how have you been, Commander?” Lyta asked as they walked down the corridors together.

Ivanova turned to look at her once, then returned her stare ahead. “Fine.”

Lyta sighed. “You know, I wondered how this would go. Somehow, though, I thought it might be worse.”

Ivanova clenched her jaw. Two months. That was all the time which had passed since she had last seen the redheaded telepath, since Talia had been....taken from them. And she knew that if it wasn't for Sinclair, she would be in a much worse place than she was. She still thought about Talia, still missed her friendship, and was still looking for someone to blame.

“Blame me.”

Ivanova stopped and turned sharply. “Don't you _ever_....”

“I'm sorry,” Lyta said quickly, holding her hands up. “But like I said last time, you project loudly. And I don't mean to listen, but if you have a problem with me, I'd rather you said it out loud. I want you to be honest, Commander.” She smiled wryly. “It makes a nice change for a telepath.”

“I don't want to blame you,” Ivanova replied after a few tense moments. “But I have to blame someone. What they did to Talia....”

“Was wrong, I know. And as a telepath, I feel that pain more strongly than you do,” Lyta said. “I know you were friends with her, but....”

“You look after your own. I understand that.”

The telepath smiled. “Just because I can guess what you're about to say doesn't mean I'm reading your mind.”

“True,” Ivanova conceded.

“Commander, if you want to blame someone, blame the Corps.”

“I do, but I can't hurt them.”

“Don't be so sure,” Lyta said mysteriously.

“So...how have you been?” Ivanova asked politely as they started to walk again.

“Oh, fine. Busy.”

“That is a somewhat vague answer, Ms Alexander.”

“I know, and I'm sorry. But I'd rather not repeat myself too many times.”

“I understand. We'll meet with the Captains and Mr Garibaldi now.”

“How is Mr Garibaldi?” Lyta asked. “And Captain Sheridan?”

“Fine. Busy.”

Lyta smiled wryly. “I guess I had that one coming.”

Ivanova glanced sideways. “I wasn't trying to throw your words back at you. It's just we've had a...trying start to the year.”

“I heard there was an explosion that almost killed Captain Sheridan and that he was saved by...something.”

“You know what, don't you?” Ivanova asked.

Lyta simply nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“How?”

“I'm afraid I can't tell you that.” The telepath was silent for a moment. “And how is Captain Sinclair?”

Ivanova didn't miss the warmth in her voice when she spoke, and she once again wondered exactly how Sinclair had such an effect on people. She also couldn't quite keep the smile off her face when she answered. “He's fine as well. Busy as well.”

Lyta took a moment to shield herself from the intensity of the Commander's emotions, and she realised just how underprepared she was for her return. Humans by nature were emotional beings, she knew that better than most, but now, after what she had been through in the last couple of months, she was more sensitive to it than ever before, and she was just discovering what extra effort she would have to put in to protect herself from the thoughts and feelings of everyone around her.

“Wait here,” Ivanova said softly. Without waiting for a reply, she walked into the Captains' office. “Captain Sheridan, Captain Sinclair, there's someone here you need to see.”

Ivanova's choice of words and her posture told Sinclair all he needed to know, and when Lyta walked in a few seconds later, he knew his earlier guess about who was onboard Kosh's ship had been correct, though he didn't know how he had known.

“Hello, Captain Sinclair. Captain Sheridan,” Lyta said with a smile.

Sinclair pushed himself to his feet and walked around the desk, smiling back. “Ms Alexander, a pleasure to see you again,” he replied, holding out his hand quite deliberately.

Although as a rule she avoided contact with people, Lyta shook hands with him, once again surprised by the calmness the man radiated, and how in control he was. She felt comfortable around him, safe almost, and she didn't say that about many people. “Nice to be back.”

Sheridan, however, was clenching his jaw. Although he been grateful for Lyta's help last time she was on the station, there was still something about the telepath that made him uncomfortable, and not just because she was a telepath. “Ms Alexander,” he said through slightly gritted teeth. “What brings you back to Babylon 5?”

Lyta sensed his hostility, which surprised her, but she didn't let it show. “With all due respect, Captain, I'd rather wait until Mr Garibaldi is here. I don't want to have to repeat myself too many times.”

Sinclair continued to smile and answered before Sheridan could. “Of course.” He raised his hand. “Mr Garibaldi, please report to the Captains' office.”

“Would you like a drink?” Ivanova asked the telepath politely.

“No, I'm fine. Thank you.” She looked around the office. “It seems different to last time I was here.”

“Probably because you haven't exposed a mole within our midst who is hell bent on destroying us,” Sheridan said.

Sinclair turned. “Captain, a word please.” He walked to the far side of the room, well aware that Lyta would know what they were saying anyway, but still willing to pay her the courtesy of a little distance. “John, what's going on?”

“I don't trust her.”

“ _You_ don't trust her?” he asked, surprised.

“There's something about her,” Sheridan said.

“You didn't have that problem last time she was here,” Sinclair pointed out.

“Maybe I didn't have a choice last time,” Sheridan told him.

Sinclair just stared. “You knew we had a mole.”

“Let's just say I wasn't surprised. Were you?”

He ignored the question. “And now?”

“Why is she here?”

“I think she's going to tell us, when Garibaldi arrives,” Sinclair said.

Sheridan looked at him for a long time. “I'm not like you, Jeff. I can't get along with everyone. Some people you just don't like, end of story.”

Garibaldi chose that moment to enter the office. “Captain, you wanted to....” He trailed off when he saw Lyta.

“Hello, Mr Garibaldi,” Lyta greeted him.

“What did I miss?” the security asked, walking over to the Captains.

“Nothing,” Sinclair said with a smile. “We were waiting for you.” He sat down and looked at Lyta. “Ms Alexander.”

She inclined her head. “Captain.” Slowly she started to pace a little. “Ever since I touched Kosh's mind a couple of years ago, I've been drawn to him. I can't explain it. I'd tried to make contact with the Vorlons since then, but I had no luck. After leaving here last time, I decided I had nothing left to lose, so I persuaded a ship to abandon me in a life pod at the edge of Vorlon space. I spent days sending telepathically out to them and nothing. My supplies and oxygen were depleted and I knew I wouldn't last much longer.” She stopped moving and looked at Sinclair. “The next thing I knew, I was on the Vorlon homeworld.”

A hushed silence fell over the room. “What was it like?” Sheridan asked, his eager curiosity drowning out his unease of the telepath.

Lyta smiled apologetically. “I'm afraid I can't tell you. Even if I could, it isn't something I could put into words. Besides, they didn't exactly let me wander around freely.” She returned her attention to Sinclair, noting how Ivanova stood to his left, her hand on the back of his chair, her thumb casually resting on his shoulder. “I came back because I'm going to be Ambassador Kosh's new aide.”

Everyone exchange glances, except Sinclair, who kept his gaze on Lyta. “If you wouldn't mind, I'd like Dr Franklin to give you a medical examination just to make sure you are okay.”

“Of course,” Lyta agreed easily. As Ivanova and Garibaldi moved to accompany her, she continued. “Don't worry, I can find my own way.”

There was a lengthy silence after she left, everyone lost in their own thoughts, until Garibaldi finally spoke. “Nobody's ever been to the Vorlon homeworld and back again, and yet she goes and comes back like she just took a trip to the corner store. And now she's working for Kosh. Is anyone else as creeped out about this as I am?”

Ivanova and Sheridan looked at each other and put their hands up. Sinclair just sighed at them.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan paused outside med lab to compose himself. He was more than 'creeped out' about Lyta's return from the Vorlon homeworld and her subsequent presence on the station – there was something about the telepath he just didn't trust, and he didn't know how to make Sinclair see his point of view. In fact, he wasn't sure why the other Captain was so accepting of Lyta, especially given that the other senior staff were as uncomfortable around her as he was, or so it seemed.

There was one person who might be able to give him answers, and so clasping his hands behind his back, Sheridan assumed a nonchalant expression and walked into med lab.

“Captain,” Franklin greeted him. “What brings you down here?”

“Oh, nothing. Just...taking a stroll.”

The doctor just looked at him. “Really,” he said disbelievingly.

Sheridan nodded. “How is everything?”

“Fine.”

“Yourself?”

“Fine.”

“And Lyta?”

“I thought so.” Franklin turned and walked away.

“Doctor, I need to know she isn't a threat,” Sheridan told him quietly as he followed him.

“Captain, if there was a problem, I would have told you or Captain Sinclair, but you know I can't discuss patient confidentiality with anybody, not even you,” the doctor replied firmly.

“I could order you to.”

“And I could go to Captain Sinclair to have that order countered.” Franklin frowned. “What's going on?”

Sheridan sucked in a deep breath and swallowed his frustration. “Nothing. Sorry I asked. I'll catch up with you later, Stephen.”

Franklin watched the Captain leave and his frown deepened. With a sigh, he turned to the computer. “Put me through to Captain Sinclair.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair sat down heavily in the office chair and pressed his knuckles to his eyes. He had thought that his days of arguing with Sheridan were over; clearly he had been wrong. The reappearance of Lyta had proved to be an unexpected thorn in the other Captain's side, and Sinclair couldn't for the life of him understand why. He could empathise with the resentment that might be felt towards the telepath over what happened to Talia, but from Sinclair's point of view, Lyta had saved them, and Sheridan's stubbornness over seeing it that way was becoming very irritating.

“Captain.”

Despite the softly spoken word, Sinclair started, his body uncoiling from the chair to a half-standing defensive position, which he quickly masked by putting his hands on the desk and sitting down again. “Brother Theo.”

The silver-haired monk emerged from the shadows. “My apologies, Captain Sinclair. I did not mean to startle you.”

“That's alright. What are you doing in the dark?”

“Reflecting. Much like you were, though I dare say on very different subjects.” Theo sighed heavily and began to pace slowly. “Captain, I need your help on a very sensitive matter.”

“Of course.”

“Brother Edward was not always part of our order. A long time ago, in another life, he was...a troubled soul. He did...terrible things.”

Sinclair leant forwards. “What kinds of things?”

Theo looked him squarely in the face. “Murder, Captain. Most terrible murder.”

Sinclair sat back, stunned. “Brother Edward?”

“When monks join our order, we rarely ask questions. But I have always suspected just who and what Edward was before he came to us.”

“Death of personality,” the Captain said in realisation.

“Precisely,” Theo agreed.

“What can I do?”

“Edward is becoming increasingly disturbed by events that are unfolding, events pointing to his past.”

“Do you think someone wants him to remember?” Sinclair asked astutely.

“I think that is entirely possible, Captain.” Theo stared into the distance. “You have access to resources I do not. Would it be possible for you to look into this matter for me please?”

“Of course. I'll let you know as soon as I find anything,” Sinclair assured him.

Theo inclined his head. “Thank you, Captain.” He walked across the room but paused in the doorway. “Leadership is a heavy burden. Should you ever find yourself in need of unloading, my door is always open.”

The Captain smiled. “Thank you.”

After the monk had left, Sinclair sat in silence for a few moments, processing what he had just learnt. Death of personality wasn't an uncommon punishment, but he was worried what they might uncover if they started digging into Edward's past. And yet a part of him wished someone would come and do the same to him. A fleeting thought of asking Lyta to help crossed his mind, but he dismissed it as he had more important things to sort out.

“Mr Garibaldi, I need to see you in my office.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan closed his eyes and tried to meditate as Sinclair had tried to teach him, but any thought of the other Captain made unreasonable anger bubble inside him. “What is wrong with me?” he grumbled to himself.

“You think too much.”

Despite his frustrations, Sheridan could feel a smile spreading across his face. “You're probably right.” He opened his eyes. “Ambassador.”

Delenn smiled back. “Captain. May I?”

“Of course.” He moved up on the bench so she could sit down. “How is your day going?”

“Is this...small talk?” Delenn asked curiously. “Much like discussing the weather, I understand.”

Sheridan smiled and nodded. “Although there isn't much weather to be discussed out here.”

She pretended to look out of an imaginary window. “I see stars. I predict stars tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after that. And....” Delenn stopped as Sheridan let out a loud laugh. “That is good to hear.”

“It is good to do. Thank you.”

“I was wondering if I could ask you something, Captain.”

“John,” he said impulsively. “Call me John.”

Delenn smiled. “Alright...John.”

“Ask away.”

“I was talking to Mr Garibaldi about the process of wiping a criminal's mind....”

“An eye for an eye?”

Delenn turned to face him properly. “Yes. That is precisely what Mr Garibaldi said. I understand the reference, but what are your thoughts on the matter?”

Sheridan faced forwards, his eyes looking in the same direction but unseeing while he collected his thoughts. After a long silence, he spoke. “I think that people who commit crimes should be punished. It's that simple. If you murder someone, and you are found guilty of it, then you should be given a suitable sentence. And the mind wipe means they become productive members of society.”

“Mr Garibaldi seems to believe it is...too kind for them.”

“Maybe,” Sheridan conceded. Then he turned. “May I ask you a question, Ambassador?”

“Delenn,” she said with a smile. “Call me Delenn.”

The Captain grinned back. “Alright. Delenn. What can you tell me about Valen? I've heard his name mentioned a few times, but I don't really know his story.”

“Well, he was....”

Sheridan link beeped and he pulled a face. “I'm sorry. Sheridan, go.”

 _“Captain Sheridan, I need to see you in the office right now,”_ Sinclair said firmly.

“I'll be right there.” He turned to Delenn, his expression apologetic. “I'm sorry, I have to go.”

She smiled and laid her hand on his arm. “It is fine, John. We can continue this discussion another time, perhaps?”

“I'd like that.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Alright, Sinclair, what's going on?” Sheridan asked irritably. He had been enjoying Delenn's company immensely and resented being dragged away, even though he had sensed the urgency in the other Captain's voice and knew whatever was going on was important.

Sinclair gave him a cold look before turning to Garibaldi. Ivanova, who was standing at her usual spot behind his left shoulder, put her hand on the back of his chair and subtly brushed her fingers against his uniform.

Garibaldi paced as he started to talk. “I did some digging, like Brother Theo asked....”

“Digging into what?” Sheridan interrupted.

Sinclair took a deep breath to quench his anger, knowing the other Captain had no knowledge of his conversation with Franklin; despite the doctor's own curiosity, he had found the younger Captain's probing into the matter to be unusual and had brought the matter to Sinclair's attention.

“Brother Theo came to me earlier, concerned about Brother Edward. It seems that he has...a past.” Sinclair took a deep breath. “He's a 'death of personality' victim, John.” He paused. “Just listen to what Michael has to say.”

Garibaldi took his cue to carry on. “Jeff's right. But not only that, it seems that Brother Edward was once Charles Dexter.”

“The Black Rose Killer?” Ivanova asked, shocked.

“One in the same,” Garibaldi replied grimly. “Brother Edward spoke to me about some writing on the wall of his quarters, but when I got there, there was nothing. I dug a little deeper into what he had been telling me, and it seems that his 'visions' weren't hallucinations at all, like I thought, but a deliberate attempt by someone to shake loose the memories of his past.”

“How?” Ivanova asked.

“They used a special compound to write on the walls, to make it look like blood for a short time and then fade.” Garibaldi frowned. “But Edward also said he heard screaming, and actually saw a dead woman.”

“A telepath,” Sheridan said firmly.

Sinclair looked at him. “I know what you're thinking, and no, it isn't her.” He turned to Garibaldi. “Didn't Edward specifically mention a Centauri at one point?”

The security chief nodded. “That would make sense. Centauri telepaths don't operate by any code, as far as I know.”

“Neither does Lyta,” Sheridan said darkly.

“Sheridan, enough,” Sinclair snapped.

“Does Brother Edward know who he used to be?” Ivanova asked quietly.

Garibaldi nodded, his expression grim. “Security logs show that the information regarding Charles Dexter was accessed about an hour before I found it...from Brother Edward's quarters.”

“We need to find him,” Sinclair said. “Before this situation grows completely out of hand.”

“And just how do you suppose we do that?” Sheridan asked.

Sinclair looked at him and smiled.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“We're getting nowhere with him,” Garibaldi said frustratedly.

“Well, I don't see what else we can do,” Sheridan replied.

Sinclair looked thoughtfully at the Centauri telepath in front of them. “I have an idea,” he said quietly before walking outside.

Sheridan looked at Garibaldi, who just shrugged. “Don't look at me, I have no idea.”

Sinclair came back in a few moments later with his hands behind his back, a benign smile on his face. “Mr Garibaldi, would you wait outside please?”

The security chief looked surprised, but nodded. “Yes, Captain.”

“Sinclair, what are you doing?” Sheridan asked, his tone slightly angry.

“Solving a problem,” he replied, not looking at the younger Captain. In his head, he was counting and when he reached the desired number, he suddenly strode forward and pulled a bag over the Centauri telepath's head.

“Sinclair, what are you doing?!” Sheridan repeated, his tone more panicked now.

Sinclair looked up at him with a determined expression. “Solving a problem,” he repeated.

Seconds later, the door opened and Garibaldi ushered Lyta in. “Visitor for you, Captain.”

Sinclair nodded to her. “Do it.”

“Sinclair...,” Sheridan said in warning.

The older Captain shot him a glance which silenced him instantly. Lyta walked straight up to the Centauri and peered at him through the bag. “If you struggle, this will hurt more,” she told him as she wrenched the location of Brother Edward and his torturer from his mind. Quickly she passed it on to the others.

Garibaldi and Sheridan exchanged glances and strode from the room, but Sinclair lingered. “Are you alright?” he asked her quietly.

When Lyta looked at him, Sinclair had the strangest epiphany, a sense of connection he somehow knew wasn't connected with the redheaded telepath in front of him. And her simple yet enigmatic answer of , “Yes,” only confounded him more.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely after a few moments before heading out after the others.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Commander Ivanova.”

Ivanova turned to see Delenn hovering in the doorway to the command centre. “Ambassador. May I help you with something?”

The Minbari noticed the curt tone but also understood the reasoning behind. “A moment of your time, if I may, Commander.”

Ivanova also recognised the tone; it was one that brooked no arguments. “Lieutenant, I want to know the minute you hear anything from Captains Sinclair or Sheridan or Mr Garibaldi.”

“Yes, Commander,” Corwin replied.

“What can I do for you, Ambassador?” Ivanova asked once they were outside.

“I was wondering if Brother Edward had been found yet.”

The Commander sighed, her stoic demeanour quickly crumbling and her shoulders slumping dejectedly. “Not yet.”

It was difficult for her to accept what was happening. Even though she knew Edward was a murderer, it was also another lifetime for him, and the man she had come to know was kind, gentle and understanding, and wasn't capable of harming another. And even though he had done so much good work, it still wasn't enough to wipe away his other sins.

“What is happening, Susan?” Delenn asked quietly.

“Brother Edward was a killer, but his sentence was the death of personality,” Ivanova explained. “And now someone from his past wants him to remember what he was and what he did, and to suffer for it.”

Delenn looked distraught. “Is the death of personality not enough? To lose oneself completely? I know that Mr Garibaldi has strong views on this matter.”

“Eye for an eye?”

“Quite.” Delenn pursed her lips. “But this person seeking to harm Brother Edward...do they not realise that through their actions, they are becoming the thing they claim to despise?”

Ivanova sighed and shook her head. “Clearly not. People's beliefs...well, they can be a powerful thing.”

“Indeed. The belief that we are doing the right thing is sometimes the only thing that keeps us alive,” the Minbari replied quietly. “And yet how many others view it the same way?”

“It is always a difficult decision, and not one that everyone can make.” Her expression turned curious then. “Forgive me for asking, Ambassador, but how did you know Brother Edward?”

“He was interested in religious figures from all races, and came to me to discuss Valen and his meaning in our society.”

“I must admit, that is a subject that interests me as well.”

“How so?”

“So little is known about him,” Ivanova said. “And yet he is held with great reverence among the Minbari, despite being a 'Minbari not born of Minbari'. I never understood that.”

Delenn stared into the distance. “Yes, it is a curious choice of words. Valen....”

Ivanova's link beeped. “I'm sorry, Ambassador.” She raised her hand. “Ivanova.”

Sinclair's deep baritone echoed around the corridor, his voice laced with sadness and tinged with anger. _“We found him.”_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sinclair sat on the bench in the Zen garden staring ahead, his entire being – body and mind – completely still. Close by, Sheridan had his hands clasped behind his back and was pacing agitatedly.

“That's a really annoying habit you have,” he remarked to Sinclair.

The older Captain just took a breath. “I could say the same about you.”

“They killed him.”

“I know.”

“How can you be so calm?” Sheridan demanded to know, stopping in front of him.

Sinclair shifted his gaze. “Life and death are not simple things. Yes, Edward was a murderer but then he became a good man, and at the end of his life, he atoned for all of his previous sins. For him, his death was worthwhile as it showed him the true man he was.” He stared ahead again. “We find it easy to forgive people when we view their actions to be 'just'. But Malcolm was convinced his actions were just; as Mr Garibaldi says 'an eye for an eye'.”

“Sometimes, just sometimes, Jeff, I really wish you'd act like a normal irrational person,” Sheridan said, though without malice.

Sinclair's eyes flashed momentarily with anger, and the younger Captain took a step back. “What good would that do, John? Irrational behaviour has no place in our line of work.”

Sheridan opened his mouth to make a retort about Sinclair and Ivanova's relationship, but was interrupted by the arrival of Brother Theo. On reflection, he decided the monk had probably saved his life. “Brother,” he greeted him.

“Captain,” Theo nodded, then turned to Sinclair. “Captain.”

The older Captain inclined his head but said nothing, and the monk took a moment to examine the situation before him. Sinclair was sat looking calm and serene, yet there was a deep well of anger beneath the surface, though not necessarily aimed at Malcolm. It was more of a generalised frustration and in some ways, it intrigued Theo. Sheridan, on the other hand, was as transparent as crystal; he could see the Captain was struggling, knew Sinclair could see it too, and yet neither of them could offer any words of comfort that would make the situation more bearable.

“I have something for you, Captain Sheridan,” Theo said eventually, holding out his hand.

Wordlessly Sheridan took the object and turned it over gently in his fingers; it was the figure Edward had been making. “Why?” he whispered after a while, the word coming out raggedly.

Theo regarded him for a moment. “It is amazing what people will do if they consider it the right thing.”

Another monk then walked into the garden. As Theo turned and smiled at him, and Sheridan turned his attention to the hooded figure, Sinclair felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck, a slight premonition of what was about to happen, and slowly he stood up, like a spring uncoiling. As subtly as he could, he placed himself close to Sheridan, deliberately invading the other Captain's personal space, but with good reason.

“Gentlemen, I would like to introduce you to the newest member of our order,” Theo said, still smiling, his hand on the young monk's shoulder.

The young man pushed his hood back as he greeted them, “A pleasure to meet you, sirs.”

It was Malcolm.

Sinclair felt Sheridan's whole body tense, ready to attack, and fixing a warm, genuine smile on his face, he stepped forwards. “I'm sure you will make a fine addition to the order,” he said, shaking Malcolm's hand. The young monk beamed, then turned to shake Sheridan's hand, but the younger Captain was glaring at him malevolently. Theo frowned and was about to speak when Sinclair continued. “You'll have to forgive Captain Sheridan. We were having a discussion about forgiveness as you walked in and you interrupted his train of thought.”

“I'm sorry,” Malcolm said, genuinely worried. “Please forgive me.”

Sinclair turned and met Sheridan's gaze. “Forgiveness is a very difficult thing to achieve, but something we do for ourselves as well as others. A hard task, but worthwhile.”

It was obvious from Sheridan's face that he was struggling, but eventually he acquiesced, stepping forward to shake Malcolm's hand. “Good luck.”

Theo watched the exchange with an unusual expression on his face. There was something in the way that Sheridan deferred to Sinclair that made him curious; it was clear they were supposed to be equals, and yet it was obvious that the older Captain was in charge, and he wondered how that had come about.

“Well, I must see our new brother to his ship,” Theo said, his hand on Malcolm's shoulder. “Good day, gentlemen.”

Sinclair inclined his head and smiled, Sheridan just stood with his hands clasped behind his back, watching the two monks leave. A silence descended over the Zen garden but it wasn't a comfortable one. Sinclair eventually broke it.

“I'm proud of you, John.”

Sheridan spun on his heel, put his face close to Sinclair's and swore. “I'm getting a little tired of you pulling this Entil'zha crap whenever you feel like it,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I didn't make you act like a decent person, Sheridan,” Sinclair retorted. “I didn't make you act like a grown up. That was your choice. Just as it was your choice to follow me.”

“You say we're equals, but you don't mean it.”

“And you're just looking for a fight. I suggest you try someone else; maybe Mr Garibaldi will oblige.” With that, he strode passed the other Captain and out into the corridor.

Sheridan took several shaky breaths to calm himself down, trying not to break the figure in his hand by gripping it too tightly. He closed his eyes and tried to will the anger away, but it didn't want to leave. He wasn't sure how long he stood like that, but eventually he became aware of someone else in the garden with him, a soothing presence.

“Holding onto anger is like holding onto a hot object; you are the only one who gets burnt.”

Despite himself, Sheridan smiled. “Any other bits of philosophy you'd like to share?” He opened his eyes slowly and saw Delenn in front of him, smiling back.

“This is a Zen garden, is it not? I have been studying the way of Zen, and it is quite fascinating,” she replied.

Sheridan felt the tension melt away from his shoulders just by looking at her and his smile grew. “Tell me about it,” he invited.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova wasn't surprised when Sinclair appeared at her quarters, and wordlessly she drew him into a tight embrace. “I won't ask if you're alright,” she whispered.

“Thank you,” he replied, curling his fingers into the fabric of her jacket.

They stayed like that for some time, letting the silence envelop them, until it felt like their hearts were beating in unison. Eventually, Ivanova pulled back and rested her forehead against Sinclair's. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

“Not particularly,” he said, his eyes closed. “Not yet.”

Ivanova pulled him close to her again. “Okay.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

In another part of the station, Lyta felt a sense of bliss as Kosh streamed out of her and back into his encounter suit. It had been a thrilling time for her, not just carrying the Vorlon ambassador, but also helping to break the Centauri telepath. It wasn't that she enjoyed inflicting pain, it was simply the freedom she felt not being bound to the Corps.

“Thank you,” she whispered in her mind to Kosh.

TBC


	52. Notes

So this note is for those of you who are still following this story, waiting for an update. Firstly, I apologise that I haven't updated in an age, but life has been crazy. And I'm sorry, and sad, to be writing this, but I can't continue with the story. I wish I could have finished it, but with so much left to write, and the way my life is now and for the forseeable future, it just isn't going to happen. I have a couple of chapters finished, which I would like to post. One is the bridge between Season 3 and Season 4, another is Sleeping in the Light (which was one of the first pieces I actually wrote!) and the last is the epilogue to the whole thing (again, wrote early on). I know it's disappointing, I know those of you following this story were enjoying how it was unfolding, but thank you for sticking with it like you have. :)


	53. Season 3-Season 4 Bridge

_December 2260/January 2261_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“Personal log, Dr Franklin. It's been almost seven days since we lost both Captains Sinclair and Sheridan on Z'ha'dum, almost seven days since Mr Garibaldi disappeared too. No one knows what happened to any of them; no one can really be sure if they're dead or alive. Ambassador Mollari has gone back to Centauri Prime, no doubt Vir will soon follow him. The League is breaking up...it's all falling apart.

“But it isn't just Sheridan, Sinclair and Garibaldi we've lost. Ambassador Delenn hasn't eaten anything since Sheridan left, taking only a little water. Lennier broke a confidence in telling me that, but there's little I can do to help her. I wish it was different. I wish I could help in some way, but I have learned my lesson in that respect. As for Ivanova.... I've never seen a person looking so desolate, so empty. It's like we've lost her as well, and no matter what I do, I haven't been able to bring her back. I've known Susan for three years, I consider her a good friend, yet I can't help her either. What does that say about me? I can't help but thinking I'm failing somehow. I know that if I hadn't had my recent personal...revelation, I would have been lost too, but it's so damned difficult trying to keep every else together. I've never felt so helpless in my life, and I don't like it one bit. It has made me realise just how much we relied on both the Captains to keep everything together, to keep our spirits up. Isn't it strange how you don't see things until they aren't there any more?

“I think if we had just lost Sheridan, Susan would have been upset but she would have coped. But to lose Jeff as well, and Michael...but especially Jeff.... Sometimes I think the only things that would bring her back would be if Captain Sinclair walked through the door, or if she died as well. As much as I would like to keep hope, the first is unlikely. As for the second, it's what I'm afraid of. Most people would think I was crazy for suggesting that, but Ivanova is Russian, after all. She would see it as a fitting end to go down in a blaze of glory, and to some extent, I agree with her. But she has so much ahead of her, though she probably doesn't see it right now. The most difficult thing at the moment, as well as everything else, is trying to keep Marcus away from her. He means well, I know he does, but right now he is the last person she needs around her.

“As for myself, I'm hanging on by a thread. Michael was my friend too, a damned good friend, and I miss him. Sheridan was different; I would never have said we were friends, but he was a fine officer and a good man. And Sinclair...we had our differences, our disagreements, but there are very few people I respect more. One of the best commanding officers I've ever served under...and I think despite everything, I would call him a friend. I know Susan has lost a lot, but she isn't the only one. We're all suffering, but we shouldn't suffer alone.

“About the only one who seems to understand all of this is G'Kar. I've been spending a surprising amount of time talking to him lately. Maybe that's what has helped me stay focussed. It's funny, but I haven't once considered going back to the stims. I guess even I'm not that stupid. Maybe there's hope for me yet.”

Franklin smiled to himself and paused the recording, looking around the empty med lab. It was crazy; one minute they were so busy they could hardly think, the next he had to put all his staff off duty because there was nothing to do. There was no happy medium; it was all or nothing. He stood, put his hands in his pockets and started to walk around slowly.

“It's times like this I wish someone could come up with a book of answers for everything. I wish someone would tell me what to do to make things right. But I know I can't and I'm not going to beat myself up over it. Instead, I'm going to do what I've been doing since this whole thing started. I'm going to go and see Delenn and Lennier. Then I'll speak with Zack; we forget he too was close to Garibaldi and is suffering as well. Then I'll go to see Susan. I don't know if I'm helping or not, but this time, I'm pretty damned sure I can't do any harm.”

Franklin tapped his link, ending the log, took one last look around med lab, and strode out.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“It is strange how life challenges us, giving us impossible obstacles to overcome at the most opportune times. I thought I had seen everything but clearly I was wrong. One moment we are standing on the edge of oblivion, the next we have been given a second chance thanks to the supreme sacrifice of two noble men. I think there are few of us on the this station who truly appreciated Captains Sinclair and Sheridan for everything they did, and now we realise it, it is too late to show that appreciation.

“I feel the losses more keenly than I thought I would. Captain Sheridan was a good diplomat and a highly skilled warrior, and I held him in high esteem. I think the humans will miss him greatly in the battle to come, but I have no doubt that battle will continue in his absence. Commander Ivanova is a most determined individual, but I worry about her in this moment. She is more broken than I have ever seen her, and it concerns me a great deal, yet I do not know how to help her, if indeed there is any aid I can offer. As much as I would like to ease her pain, this is something she must work through alone. It is a heavy burden she carries, but there is no one who can share it, except for one person, who is unfortunately the same person who has caused her this grief.

“Captain Sinclair was an enigma in many ways, one I am sure I still do not understand. He is one of the few humans I have met who showed no fear in standing his ground against anyone, including myself, and there are not many who would dare to fight me, yet I know he would have done. Yet in the next moment, almost, he was thoughtful and spiritual. He was also a strong warrior, a fearsome diplomat, and I think a poet as well. Delenn once said he was a true seeker; I'm not sure I understand exactly what she meant, but I can see it. He was a part of this station for so long, I think I can feel his presence in every part.

“And then there is Mr Garibaldi....”

G'Kar paused in his dictation as his voice caught in his throat. He had never considered he would become so attached to anyone who wasn't a Narn, or at least as much as he became attached to anyone. Yet he missed the humans greatly.

“I think his disappearance is quite possibly the worst hand the universe could have dealt us. We know of the Captains' fate, but Mr Garibaldi's is unknown. One minute he was outside the station, the next he was gone. I have a theory, but it makes no sense to me, yet it is logical: a Shadow vessel took him. But why? What possible purpose could that serve? No, it makes no sense at all.

“There is something else which surprises me; Mollari is going back to Centauri Prime, probably permanently, and I find I will miss his presence. I think it has more to do with familiarity and normality than anything else; all this change so suddenly cannot be good for anyone, I think.

“And then there is Delenn. She has not been seen or heard from since Sheridan's...disappearance. I have tried to contact her, but my messages have never been answered. But I will not give up; one day she will read them and know she is not alone.

“The only person who seems to be coping is Dr Franklin, but I know he is close to falling apart as well. We have been spending a great deal of time together and I believe our talks have helped him greatly, for which I am thankful for. He and I are not so different in our links to the ones missing, and while we were not as close as to them as Ivanova or Delenn, we still miss them. We still grieve for them. The question is, when will we stop?”

G'Kar stopped talking, his voice trailing off quietly, and after a few moments of silent contemplation, he blew out each candle carefully, leaving the room in darkness, reflecting his state of mind perfectly.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“I do not know how I feel any more. I don't even know if I can feel. I knew an attack on the station was imminent, yet I did nothing, except stay. What good was that? And then to discover that both Captains had left the station...it made no sense to any of us, yet it should have done! And what did I do? What did I say? Nothing. Why? Have I grown so cold, so selfish? Perhaps I have. I only ever wanted what was right for my people, but now I realise I was wrong. I wish I could go back to the moment I met Mr Morden and take the opportunity to throw him out of the nearest airlock, a punishment Mr Garibaldi is so fond of threatening.... Mr Garibaldi....”

“It has been a hard day for the humans. To lose both Captains and Mr Garibaldi must be hard on them, and I must admit I wonder to his fate. He was...a friend, and I find I shall miss him. I do not know what will happen now, not to this station or the war. All I know is I am being forced to leave, and I find I do not want to. And that surprises me more than anything else.”

Londo sighed loudly and pressed the screen. The Great Maker had a cruel sense of humour, he decided as he poured himself another drink.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

“It's all going wrong, more than it ever has before. I don't understand why this is happening; they are good people, they don't deserve this. Captain Sinclair and Captain Sheridan have given their lives so that we could live; I know they stopped the Shadow attack, but does that mean the war is over? I don't know. I would hate to think they died in vain. That would be harder on Commander Ivanova and Ambassador Delenn, I think. Though I also don't think they would let that happen; I think they will take the fight right to Earth and make everyone remember them. Captain Sheridan was...a strong man, though I never had much chance to talk to him really. But Captain Sinclair...he was quite a man. And then there is also the disappearance of Mr Garibaldi. Will we ever know what happened to him? I wish I knew; I wish I could give Ivanova and Delenn some sort of comfort to help aid their grief. But what can we do? What can any of us do, apart from let them know they're not alone? But how long will the rest of us be here? I don't know. Dr Franklin is doing his best, but is it enough? I suppose it has to be as he can't give any more. And Lennier...he is in just as much pain as Delenn, yet there is something else there...hope, I think. I hope I'm wrong; I hope he doesn't do something stupid in this situation, but you never know.”

Vir turned his head towards the bulkhead, imagining he was looking out of a viewpoint at the stars.

“It's all going wrong, and I don't know if we can ever make it right again.”

TBC


	54. Sleeping in Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm giving a possible tissue warning, though I'm sure this would have had more impact if the rest of the story was there to back it up.

_2281_

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Ivanova sat in her office and stared at the envelope in front of her, her hands flat on the desk either side of it. The years had not exactly been kind to her; her face was lined in harsh ways and grey streaked her hair, which was pulled back severely in a tight plait, and there was an unforgiving air about her. Her Earthforce uniform was decorated with many coloured ribbons, and the rank of General sat proudly on her shoulders, but there was no pride in her achievements, no joy left in her for anything. She worked because it was all she knew; and it wasn't enough. She had thought that leaving Babylon 5 all those years ago and taking command of a ship would allow her to forget. When she realised it wasn't working, she accepted an office job Earth-side, something she never thought she would do, and still she couldn't put the past behind her.

The letter wasn't unexpected at all; Ivanova knew what it would say, and she knew who it was from. Really, there was no need to open it, but if she was wrong.... They hadn't spoken since those fateful words almost twenty years ago, when she had left Babylon 5 for the last time. She had followed his career, though, as the Interstellar Alliance grew and endured and overcame its share of problems. And then when he took over the role of Entil'zha, she wanted to feel proud of her friend, wanted to feel sad because of what it reminded her of, but she felt nothing. During the telepath war, she wanted to feel compassion for them, feel sorry for what was happening. But she didn't. And when she heard of Garibaldi's return to the drink, despite everything he had going for him, Ivanova didn't rush to help him like she would have done once over; instead, all she did was let her bitterness and resentment and anger at a man long gone grow: she blamed Sinclair for Garibaldi's decline, blamed his absence and senseless sacrifice for a lot of things.

Ivanova allowed her fingers to trace the edges of the envelope. She knew Delenn would be the one to contact her; while she could have ignored Sheridan's request, even near the end of her life, she could not ignore the Minbari woman. Even though she knew they would all be there, people she had tried to hard to forget about, people she'd had little or no contact with in almost two decades. Sheridan, Delenn, Franklin and Garibaldi.... Her mind flashed back to the last conversation with the old security chief.

_“Captain Ivanova, you have an incoming message,” a fresh-faced lieutenant informed her crisply._

_“Put it through.” Ivanova was expected many things, but Garibaldi's face appearing was not one of them. “Mr Garbaldi. This is a surprise.”_

__“You're a hard person to track down,” _he said, hurt colouring his tone._ “What gives?” __

_“I know what you mean, and I'm also very busy. Did you want something?” She meant to be harsh with him, meant to push him away. She was still having trouble forgiving him for his betrayal of Sinclair and Sheridan, and seeing him again only served to remind her that things would never be the same again. It would never be the three of them – Sinclair, Garibaldi and herself – in long, lazy meetings in the office with coffee, there would be no more banter between the two men, no more practical jokes. Seeing Garibaldi only served to remind her that Sinclair was gone, and that wound was still far too fresh to deal with._

__“Damn right I did,” _Garibaldi replied hotly, unperturbed by Ivanova's attitude._ “I'm a couple of days later than the others returning to the station, and what do I find? That you've left without a word. You didn't wait for me, you didn't call to say goodbye. Sheridan said you just went, like we didn't matter any more. Like the last four years on the station hadn't happened.” __

_“I had an assignment, Mr Garibaldi. Duty doesn't wait for anybody.”_

__“Bullshit. You could've left a message, but you didn't even do that. Why, Susan?” _Garibaldi softened._ “I was just as shocked by the news of Jeff disappearing, but....” __

_“Sinclair is dead,” Ivanova snapped. “End of story. Now if you don't mind, I really am very busy. Have a good life, Michael.” And with that, she shut the communication line._

Ivanova could count the amount of times they had spoken after that on one hand and still have fingers spare. A few months after that conversation, Garibaldi contacted her again to say that he and Lise were getting married, and to ask if there was any chance she would be able to attend. He was distant with her, but his manner showed he was willing to forgive and forget if she was willing to make a little effort. She told him congratulations and she couldn't possibly take any leave. Any further contact was strictly to with work, and as she sat reminiscing, Ivanova realised she hadn't actually seen Garibaldi since he had left Babylon 5 midway in 2261.

She couldn't do it. She couldn't go to a farewell dinner and deal with the high emotion that would be involved. She wasn't ready to make her peace with any of them; wasn't ready to say goodbye to Sheridan either. Couldn't look at him knowing he received an extra ten years of life because Sinclair died. Couldn't imagine what Sheridan thought of that either.

It would be one of the toughest things she had ever done, and Ivanova was tempted to say no, that she was far too busy....

But even after all that time and everything she had endured, she still wasn't willing to endure the wrath of Delenn.

Sighing, Ivanova tore open the envelope, scanned the letter, then recorded a message for Delenn consisting of three words. “I'll be there.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan sat alone, only his thoughts for company. The robes of the Anla'shok still felt uncomfortable to him, despite having worn them for many years. And even though his wife had worn them well, in his mind there was only one person who looked right, not only in the clothes, but the role as well.

It was hard to believe it was almost twenty years since Sinclair had left them, and it was ironic to Sheridan how much he missed the other man, despite him being absent far longer than present in his life. Twenty years...which was probably twice as long as if Sinclair had stayed. Sheridan felt that debt keenly, like an open wound, despite Delenn's constant reassurances that it was one of those things that had to happen, that Sinclair would have taken Babylon 4 back anyway, no matter what else might have happened, but still Sheridan felt he owed him his life. The chance to build a life with his wife, the chance to watch his son being born and grow....it was a debt that he could never repay.

And yet there was a way, could have been one, and Sheridan knew it but had never acted on it, which only compounded his sense of guilt: he could, and should, have taken care of Ivanova, yet they had not spoken since that fateful day when she left Babylon 5. He had recorded dozens of messages over the years, even written letters to her. And more than once, when she took a job Earth-side, he had found himself outside her office, only to turn and walk away without ever knocking. He knew why; he felt he could offer her nothing that would help her. No shoulder for comfort, no words to ease the pain. Sinclair had left and Sheridan had let him go. It was that simple.

And as his life was drawing to a close, Sheridan knew he had to make amends, more for Ivanova's sake than his. She had to move on, make something more of her life...actually start living it.

He was drawn from his reverie by his wife's presence. “You are over-thinking again,” she said fondly.

“Old habits die hard, I guess.”

“They are coming, John,” she told him after a pause.

Sheridan looked up at her, his expression guarded. “All of them?”

Delenn smiled and nodded. “All of them.”

Sheridan nodded as well, relaxing a little. “Good,” he said, still amazed after all this time at his wife's ability to make things happen. “Good.”

“It will be good to see them again.”

“It would be better if they were _all_ here,” he pointed out.

“I know.” Delenn stared off into the distance for a moment, lost in her own thoughts, before coming back to herself and sitting down. “Do you know what you will say?”

“No, but I'm sure something will come to me.” He turned to her. “Actually, there is something I've been thinking of, I'm just not sure how it will go over. I'd like...I want to ask Susan to take over the Rangers from me.”

Delenn pulled back a little. “I do not think that is a good idea.”

“Why not? I know we haven't spoken for a long time....”

“Almost twenty years.”

“...And I know we'll have some patching up to do first. But I also know she's not that happy on Earth, that she's looking for a change. I think this would be a good thing for her. And it would be company for you.”

Delenn was silent for a while before turning and taking Sheridan's hands in hers. “John, there is something you should know before you speak to Susan - and the others – about...about Jeff's...fate.”

Sheridan frowned. “What do you mean? He died on some secret mission, remember?”

“Not exactly.” Settling back, his wife regarded him affectionately and touched his cheek. “I will tell you a great truth, one which perhaps I should have told you long ago but couldn't. I hope once you know the truth, you will understand why.”

“Here we go,” he muttered. “Delenn, I thought we were done with all these secrets.”

“Not quite.”

Sheridan didn't think the universe could get any stranger, thought he had seen everything but after Delenn had finished speaking, he realised how wrong he was. He wasn't sure he would ever be able to wrap his brain around what he had just learned, but then he realised sadly he didn't have to; he realised he wouldn't be alive to see the consequences of the knowledge he now possessed.

“The others, will they ever know?” he asked.

Delenn nodded. “I will tell them, in time.”

“Michael will be hell to be around, you know that.” It was a statement, not a question, but she answered it an amused tone anyway.

“I know.”

“What about the Rangers? I promised Jeff I'd take care of them,” Sheridan said seriously.

“We have taken care of them all of these years,” Delenn replied. “And we will continue to do so.”

“Susan would be the best choice, though.”

“And possible the worst.” Delenn sighed. “Can you not see how she might take it? You would be asking her to take over a role that meant so much to three very important people whom she had lost.”

Sheridan frowned. “I don't understand.”

Delenn sighed in a long-suffering way. “Marcus lived and breathed the Rangers, and he gave his life for her out of pure love. Jeff was the reason the Rangers were created, he was instrumental in bringing them back to the forefront of our lives, of integrating humans, and other races, with the Minbari to create a Ranger force never seen before. And you....”

“Oh.” Understanding came like a star going super nova, and Sheridan smiled ruefully. “I guess I don't see myself as being that important to Susan any more.”

“You should,” his wife admonished him. “You are and have been for a long time. You both just need to remember it.”

“I should make an effort to talk to her alone.”

“You should.”

“It's going to be difficult.”

“Nothing worthwhile is ever easy.”

Sheridan glanced sideways at Delenn. “Who taught you that?”

She smirked back. “You did.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

It was good to see everyone again, and only by looking at their faces as they arrived did Sheridan realise just how long it had been since they were in each other's company. It was a point he would have rectified, had he had more time; none of them were so busy that they couldn't make the time to visit more regularly, but it never happened. And now...now there was no more time, for him at least. But he was grateful that none of them made any reference to what was about to happen; no one discussed the reason they were there. They all acted normally, as if this was a get together that happened, regularly, and Sheridan was more thankful for that than he could ever put into words.

But there was one painful exception. Ivanova had greeted him coolly, distantly, and spent the evening stood to one side of the room, while Sheridan laughed and joked with Franklin and Garibaldi. A couple of times he looked over at her, hoping that by some miracle she would read his mind and come and join them. She never did, and Sheridan just lost himself in the joy of being with his friends, ignoring the problem as much as he could.

Ivanova didn't want to be there. She had known it would be like this, but a small part of her had thought that perhaps it would be different, that perhaps they could all just forget the last twenty years had happened. As she watched Sheridan, Garibaldi and Franklin chatting in an intimate circle, she realised they were doing just that, yet she could not. Seeing their faces again, hearing their voices again, watching them interact with each other...it was almost too much for her to handle. And there was the glaring obvious that their group was incomplete in many ways, something which the others didn't seem to notice but she could not ignore. She wanted to go over to them, to just sit down and join in, but she remained to one side, more uncomfortable than she had been for a long time.

Delenn smiled fondly from a distance at her husband as she watched him come truly alive in the presence of his friends. He was so animated, so happy, that she wanted to capture every movement, preserve the image in her mind forever, fixing the memory so that she could always look back on it with a smile and no sadness. It wasn't just Sheridan; Delenn hadn't seen Garibaldi look so relaxed for a long time, and Franklin finally looked comfortable in his own skin. But as her gaze shifted around the room, a frowned appeared on her perfect face. There was one person who was not happy, and Delenn sighed heavily. She didn't understand how the men could remain so oblivious to the cold front Ivanova was giving off, but she also didn't understand how Ivanova could remain so impervious to the joy in the room. Suddenly, without warning, the Earthforce General spun on her heel and strode from the room; the slight lull in the conversation told Delenn that her departure did not go unnoticed. She waited patiently to see who would go after her, but after a while it became obvious none of them would. Her patience evaporated quickly, and with a pointed glare at Sheridan, she hurried after Ivanova.

“Susan,” Delenn called after the Earthforce officer.

Ivanova stopped in her tracks and squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't want to be disturbed, didn't want to have the conversation she knew was coming, but knew there was no getting around it. “I was just going to the bathroom,” she replied, not turning.

“Have we grown so far apart that you feel the need to lie to me now?” Delenn asked somewhat pointedly.

Ivanova spun once more, fully intent on making her grievances known, only to have the words die on her tongue. The Minbari woman stood mere feet from her, with tears in her eyes. “Delenn?”

“John is dying, he only has a few days left, and when he leaves.... It seems you and I will have more in common than ever before. I love him as you loved Jeff, and I know you love John as I loved Jeff,” she said. “I do not wish to see this...this feud between the two of you continue passed the point of no return.”

“I think it's too late for that,” Ivanova replied quietly.

“He is still here,” Delenn pointed out. “If you leave it until he is no longer around, then it will be too late.”

Ivanova sighed and moved to the nearest window. “I'm not sure this can be fixed, Delenn, and even if it could, it would take both of us and I'm not sure he is willing to make an effort.”

“I have already spoken to him about this matter.” The exasperation was clear in her voice.

“I still blame him for Jeff's...for Jeff leaving.” Despite the years that had passed, Ivanova still couldn't admit to herself that Sinclair was dead. “With everything that was happening, it makes no sense to me whatsoever why John would go along with such a plan.”

“Yet it makes sense why Jeff and myself should go?” Delenn asked curiously.

“Strangely enough, yes,” Ivanova replied, nodding. “But John....” She shook her head. “It must have really been something for him to leave at such a crucial moment like that. And after I left Babylon 5, I kept waiting for John to get in touch with me and say 'we left because....' and to give me a damned good reason, and he never did. So I started to wonder, was there a good reason? Was I wrong about Sinclair all those years? Was he just a damned coward who ran away in the heat of the battle, like the Battle of the Line?”

“That is not true, and you know it.” The Earthforce officer was shocked by Delenn's sudden closeness and the vehemence in her voice. “Jeff did not run away from anything, ever. His disappearance at the Battle of the Line was entirely our fault, you know that. As for what happened to him in the end, there was a damned good reason for it, as you put it.”

“Which was...?”

“It is not my place to say.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Perhaps if you talk to John, he will have the answers you seek.”

Ivanova glared at Delenn. “That's not fair.”

“No, it isn't,” she admitted. “Susan, why did you come if you knew it would be like this?”

“Because despite everything, I couldn't deny you anything,” she replied.

Delenn looked at her intently. “And John?”

Ivanova sighed heavily and returned her gaze to the gardens that lay beyond the window. “If this is to be the last time we will see each other, I couldn't say no, despite wanting to.”

“What about Michael and Stephen?”

There was a long silence. “I suppose a small part of me still hoped there could be a change, that things weren't too badly broken and could be fixed. I see now, though, that I was wrong.”

Delenn laid a hand on Ivanova's arm. “Sometimes both parties are waiting for the other to make the first move. Over the years, John and I have had many arguments which have ended that way; I am waiting for him to apologise, he is waiting for the same from me. And when it becomes clear neither of us are willing to move, it becomes a waiting game to see who will actually do so first. It is not a loss of face, or sacrificing one's pride to do so, Susan. It is hard, yes, but if you truly want a change, sometimes you just have to make it happen, by force if necessary.”

A ghost of a smile graced Ivanova's lips. “Are you saying I should hold a PPG to John's head and make him talk to me?”

Delenn couldn't help but smile in return. “Perhaps such a drastic method isn't needed...yet.”

“I know you're right, Delenn, it's just...things have been this way for a long time, and change is hard,” Ivanova admitted.

“Susan, may I ask you...do you truly want things to stay the same? Do you not wish for a change?”

“No, I don't, and yes, I do.”

Delenn linked her arm comfortably with Ivanova and tugged slightly. “Then come back with me and let us see if we can fix this. Besides, I'm sure dinner is almost ready, and you do not want to miss that.”

As they re-entered the room, the banter between the men was still going strong and this time there was no lull in the babble of voices, though Sheridan did cast a glance at his wife, who glared pointedly back. He quickly looked away, not willingly to be drawn into an argument at that time. He was enjoying himself far too much with Garibaldi and Franklin, and Vir as well now, and just wanted to concentrate on the good times. He noticed, however, that Ivanova kept looking his way more frequently with an expression that was indecipherable to him, and he was actually glad when Delenn announced it was time to eat as it allowed him to escape her eyes, if only briefly.

As they sat around the dinner table, each of them spoke a name, of someone important in their lives who was no longer with them; Lennier, Marcus, Londo, G'Kar.... Their losses over the years seemed to have been heavy and personal, but one name was not mentioned, and as the others looked around, they saw Sheridan and Ivanova lock gazes. Both knew Sinclair's name should have been spoken, both knew his should have been first, but neither of them could do it. It was too painful for them in different ways. Garibaldi and Delenn looked at each other, their thoughts in the same place, and they shared a sad smile over the same man. Franklin and Vir seemed to understand what was happening and they bowed their heads in respect. Ivanova and Sheridan continued to stare at each other across the table, waging a silent battle while seemed to have been going on for years. Finally, Sheridan broke the deadlock and looked away.

“Now Delenn wanted me to give a speech....”

“Lord have mercy on us,” Franklin murmured.

“Why did I leave my PPG at home?” Garibaldi wondered.

Sheridan mock-glared at them both. “...But you'll be pleased to know,” he continued in a louder, firm voice, “That I have decided not to.”

“There is a God,” Franklin said.

“Hallelujah,” Garibaldi added.

Sheridan rolled his eyes, then smiled and shook his head a little. “There is so much I could say, but now that you're all here, I can see it isn't necessary.”

Delenn hoped he was making a generalisation for the sake of peace, otherwise they would be having serious words later.

“Instead, I just want to say thank you all for coming. It's good to see you all.” As he spoke, he looked around the table at each of them, as though fixing their faces in his memory, though his eyes didn't linger on Ivanova. “So, who would like to share a story?”

They all looked at each other until Garibaldi wiped at his mouth with a napkin, then leant on the table. “I suppose it's up to me. Well....”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan knew he was in trouble the moment he step foot in their bedroom. He'd had an inkling something was wrong before dinner, but seeing Delenn's rigid frame, he knew for sure now. And while part of him didn't want to deal with the problem, he knew there would be no getting away from it.

“That was some day,” he mused as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“Do you really think so?” Delenn asked.

“Sure. It was nice to have everyone together again.”

“Yes. We were all in the same room. But not everyone was included,” she pointed out.

But Sheridan was weary, his patience thin because he was tired. “Delenn, Susan is a grown woman. She can make her own decisions, as well you know. And she decided not to join us, not to even make any kind of effort. What do you want me to do? I can't change her mind if she doesn't want it changing. She's as stubborn as you are,” he added quietly.

Delenn wasn't having any of it. “You didn't even try, John. None of you did, including Susan. I thought that perhaps just being here would be enough for her, but now I see I was wrong. Perhaps I should never have invited her, then everyone would have been happy.”

Sheridan was shocked by his wife's words. “After everything you told me yesterday, about being important to Susan, and what lies ahead for her, you think she shouldn't be here?”

“I did not say that, I just think perhaps it would have been better for everyone had she not come. Then you could have all kept pretending everything was alright when it clearly isn't. Then you could have all kept lying to yourselves that there was nothing you could do.”

He winced as Delenn's words hit home, as they always did. “Why do I have the feeling you've had this talk once already with someone?” he asked.

“It does not matter. John, you said you would make an effort to talk to Susan,” she said to him in an exasperated tone. “When? You do not have much time left.”

“I know that, dammit,” he snapped, then immediately regretted his outburst and took hold of his wife's hands. “I'm sorry, Delenn. I don't want to fight with you, not now, okay? Let's just enjoy this time together, and I will try to talk to Susan tomorrow.”

There was something in his voice that made her realise the end was closer than either of them wanted it to be, and she folded herself into his arms. “Promise me, John. Promise me you will talk to Susan before....” She could bring herself to say the words.

Sheridan kissed the top of Delenn's head. “I promise. Now come to bed.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Soft footfalls drew Ivanova from her reverie and she turned towards the doorway, wondering who else was still prowling the house at such an ungodly hour.

“Sorry, I didn't realise anyone else was still awake,” Franklin said as he spotted her in the corner.

For a moment, Ivanova studied him as though seeing him for the first time, which in a way she was. He was the only one who hadn't held a grudge against her, who hadn't taken the way she left personally. He had felt hurt like everyone else, but he also understood enough to know that given the circumstances, things were always going to happen that way. And she realised that Delenn had been right, and she so often was; if Ivanova wanted to see a change, she was going to have to make the first move as it was what the others seemed to be waiting for.

“Have a seat, Stephen,” she said eventually, moving up a little on the bench.

Franklin was surprised but didn't show it. He had seen how distant Ivanova was while he, Garibaldi and Sheridan talked and joked and reminisced. He had wanted to invite her to join them, had wanted to include her again, and had wanted her to want to be included. He sat down next to her, wincing at little at his aches and pains.

“How have you been, Susan?” he asked after a few beats. “And please don't give me any crap. We're too old, we're too tired, and we've known each other far too long for that.”

To his surprise, Ivanova gave a short laugh. “I wasn't planning on it. Not here, not now. It just wouldn't feel right.” Then she sighed. “I'm tired, Stephen. Tired of absolutely everything. I have been for a long time.”

He turned to look at her. “Why did you never call me? Why did you cut us all off? I mean, I think I know, but I need to hear it from you.”

“When I woke up to find that Marcus had given his life for me, I was stunned. It was such a magnificent, noble and stupid gesture, I didn't know what to think. No one has ever done anything like that for me, not even Jeff, though I know he would have in a heartbeat. And then to realise that Jeff had gone, it was like reliving Z'ha'dum all over again, but this time I knew it was different; I knew there would be no coming back, that I was never going to see him again. And part of me...all I wanted was to surround myself with my friends, to just wrap myself up in the comfort I knew you would offer. But I also knew that would not have taken away the pain and any help you all could have given would have been temporary as it seemed everyone was suddenly moving on anyway. And....” She drew in a shaky breath. “And I couldn't allow myself to be hurt any more by anyone. I loved Jeff more than my own life, and he betrayed me. He knew he wouldn't be coming back from that mission and he never said anything to me. And worst of all, Stephen, worst of all is knowing he went when he knew I was injured.” She shook her head, surprised by the tears that were falling. “I needed him, Stephen, and he wasn't there. And if he left, why wouldn't the rest of you? I had to protect myself the only way I knew how.”

“By pushing us all away and leaving,” Franklin replied, nodding. “I understand, but it hurt, Susan, it hurt a whole damned lot, I hope you know that.”

She nodded as well. “I do and I'm sorry. Can you forgive me?”

“I was never angry at you, I just wanted to help.”

“You did. I never forgot how you were there for me when we thought Jeff and John had died on Z'ha'dum, and you were there for me when Marcus died and Jeff...left,” Ivanova told him, turning to face him. “And I know you would have continued to be there for me for as long as I needed, but I couldn't let you because you needed to live your own life.”

“I could have done both,” Franklin told her, emotion welling in him. “I'm your friend, and that's what friends do. I've never stopped being your friend, I've just been waiting for you to realise it. And I should be the one asking for forgiveness; we were all too busy feeling sorry for ourselves and saying how you left was wrong, but we could have easily contacted you. We could have hounded you until you gave way, but we didn't. We just let you do your thing because...well, it was easier, and I'm sorry for that, Susan. So sorry we didn't try harder.”

“I'm sorry too, Stephen.”

It was too much for both of them and the wall Ivanova had erected between them cracked and broke. They wrapped their arms around each other, holding on tightly until the last twenty years melted away and were forgotten. They stayed like that for a long time, remembering what had been buried, and letting the new found peace wash over them.

Finally, Ivanova pulled away first, wiping at her face. “I don't think I ever thanked you, Stephen, for everything.”

“I could say the same,” he replied with a smile. “I don't think you realised all the times you helped me.”

“Oh, I do; I kept a list in case I ever needed to call in favours,” she quipped.

Franklin laughed. “I'd like to see that list. I'm pretty certain it won't tally with the one I have.”

“Are you questioning my honour, Doctor?”

“Are you questioning mine, General?”

Ivanova smiled. “You're a good man, Stephen. Thank you.”

He smiled back. “I'll send you a bill in the morning.” Then he pushed himself to his feet and stretched. “This old man is now going to bed. Sleep well, Susan.”

She just nodded. “See you tomorrow.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Sheridan had awoken early and slipped out of bed carefully as to not wake Delenn. He walked silently into the other room, his mind heavy with thoughts. He had known for a while that his time was running out; he could feel himself slowing down in a way that could only mean one thing. He had thought himself ready, had been preparing for the day since Lorien had brought him back, since Sinclair had given his life energy to Sheridan, but now he realised he didn't want to go. He dressed himself slowly, wearily almost, in his old uniform. It was snug in places, but still fit quite well, but gave him a feeling of melancholy he wasn't prepared to deal with. He had almost put his blue Earthforce uniform on, but for some reason chose the black instead. It had a more sombre feel about it, seemed more right to him for what was about to happen. He looked at himself in the mirror, but in his mind's eye all he could see were his friends, the joy of the previous evening, and the sadness too that he hadn't brought Ivanova back into the fold, and it pained him to think they were going to be denied a reconciliation because they were both just too stubborn to admit they were wrong. Sheridan knew they both could have tried harder, but just didn't, and he was angry with himself for letting so much time slip away without making a move. He knew he had promised Delenn he would talk to Ivanova, but when he awoke that morning, he knew he had no more time left to do so and that hurt him.

“Enough, John. Don't waste the last few moments you have on regrets,” he admonished himself. “Just let it be.” With a final tug of his uniform, a hand over his hair, Sheridan left his quarters for the last time.

Ivanova shifted on the bench, knowing she should have been asleep but also knowing being awake was far more important. The temptation to leave was overwhelming; after losing so many friends, so many people she held close to her – and there weren't that many to start with – Ivanova didn't feel she could cope with losing another. Because despite everything, she knew her and Sheridan still shared a bond, they had been through too much for it to just disappear completely, and she had realised during her short time on Minbar that she wasn't ready to say goodbye to him. Yet a part of her was still angry with him, upset that so many years had fallen by without contact from him, though she understood she could have been the first to break the silence, as with any of them. It just didn't happen that way. Always some reason not to, some excuse to be found as time slipped away uncaringly.

And she had thought that being on Minbar, being with them all again, their relationship could heal. But it seemed that even in each others company, they had nothing to say. While Sheridan, Garibaldi and Franklin seemed more comfortable than ever with each other, Ivanova had remained on the outside, part of her wanting to join in, part of her waiting to be invited. But Sheridan had ignored her, or that was what it had felt like. So she had decided, after her talk with Franklin, that she was going to make the first move, something she should have done years ago, but couldn't. She had stayed up all night, unable to sleep for some inexplicable reason, just waiting to catch him alone.

Footsteps brought her attention back to the present and Ivanova turned to look down the corridor at who was approaching. As he came into the light, Sheridan stopped dead in his tracks. This wasn't a part of his plans, and he felt his heart beat quicken. He had hoped to avoid just this sort of situation, yet he was glad she was there; he could not have beared leaving without saying anything at all to her. As he stood frozen to the spot, Ivanova studied him, her insides turning to ice, a cold breath of fear creeping over her skin. He was dressed in his old black uniform, and instantly she understood its meaning. Today was the day, and he had hoped to go before anyone else arose. That was why she could not sleep. She could sense his anxiety, understood it herself, and suddenly she wanted to weep at the thought that she could have easily missed the opportunity to fix things. Not wanting to waste any more time, Ivanova rose quickly and strode towards him.

As soon as Sheridan had laid eyes on Ivanova, he was aware of a big change in her, of a return to her old self, and as she started to move, he walked forwards, the two of them meeting halfway like they should have done years ago.

“John.”

“Susan.”

Within seconds of reaching each other, Ivanova had her arms wrapped tightly around Sheridan, and his arms were around her, and they were clinging to each other as though their lives depended on it. All the words they couldn't say they put into that hug, everything they were feeling came through, and both sobbed until they had no more tears to give. When they finally separated, Sheridan took Ivanova's face gently in his hands and wiped hers tears away with his thumbs.

“Susan, I am so sorry for everything. I should have made more of an effort to help you, but something always came up and frankly, I was hurt you left the way you did. I know it was hard for you, but it was hard for all of us. We all needed each other, but we weren't there for each other.” He dropped his hands, took hers in his. “And I'm sorry for not taking the time for you while you've been here. It's just...it's so easy to be around Michael and Stephen – and Vir – with them laughing and joking. Helped me forget...what's to come. And seeing you...seeing you reminded me of Jeff, of the gift he gave me and the sacrifice he made, and that was hard for me. But I know it couldn't have been any easier for you.” He swallowed past the lump forming in his throat. “But you...you're a part of my life, a big part, and I know I haven't done as well by you as I should have, and I'm sorry.”

Ivanova squeezed his hands. “You're right, I did need you. And Michael and Stephen and Delenn. We needed each other, but it was just....” She shook her head. “In a way, I think I needed that complete separation to get on with my life. I always lose the people I love, John. My mother, my brother, my father, Marcus, Jeff...and now you. And dammit, I do love you. As my friend, like a brother.” She tried to fight back more tears, but it was a losing battle. “And I wanted to be mad at you, wanted to hate you for abandoning me, but I couldn't. I couldn't be as mad at you as I was at myself. Because I've spent the last twenty years running away from my life, not living it.” Hot tears of frustration spilled over onto her cheeks. “I've spent the last twenty years wishing someone would rescue me...wishing you would come for me, and you never did! Wishing it was you because Jeff wasn't around any more, yet a part of him lives on in you!”

Sheridan choked back a sob and he pulled her to him again. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never realised...I never thought....”

“You couldn't know,” Ivanova replied, shaking her head against his chest. “It's not your fault.”

As they held each other, Sheridan thought about the revelation Delenn had shared a few days before, and he decided his parting gift to Ivanova would be a little piece of mind, though he could not tell her everything. “Susan, there's something you should know...about Jeff.”

He pulled away and encouraged her to sit down, keeping her hands in his. “What is it, John?” she asked almost fearfully.

“Now before I tell you, I want you to know that I only found this out a few days ago. Delenn kept the secret all this time, and I hope eventually, you'll understand why.”

“Go on.”

He took a deep breath. “That last mission we went on together, the timing never made sense to anyone, right?”

Ivanova shook her head, the memories still painful after all that time. “No, it didn't.”

“It didn't make sense to me either, but Delenn and Jeff were so insistent, I had no choice.” Sheridan allowed himself to drift back twenty years to that moment in time. “I knew it was important, but I didn't understand why. You see, Susan, Jeff didn't die on that mission like we all thought. Yes, he went back in time with Babylon 4, back a thousand years to the last great war with the Shadows. He had to do it because apparently, he's always done it and he always well.”

Somehow, Ivanova knew what Sheridan was going to say before the words left his mouth.

“You see, Susan,” he continued with a slight smile. “Jeff Sinclair is...was...will be... Valen.”

“What?”

“Jeff and Valen are the same person.”

“Oh.”

His eyes widened comically as he stared at her. “Oh? That's all you're going to say? Oh?!”

Ivanova stared back. “What do you want me to say?”

Sheridan started to speak, then stopped and laughed. “I don't honestly know. I guess I was expecting some sort of reaction.” He shook his head. “You're handling the news a lot better than I did.”

“I don't know how to handle it,” she admitted. “I feel I've been emotionless for so long....”

He nodded and squeezed her hands. “Don't worry, it won't always be that way.” He wanted to tell her the rest, wanted to make her happy, but knew it wasn't the right time. “Will you be okay?”

“I don't know,” Ivanova replied. “That's a hell of a thing you just told me.”

“Give it time, it'll make sense.” Sheridan looked passed her then, at the growing light. “Speaking of time....”

“I'm not ready for this,” she told him in a quiet voice.

He smiled at her. “I am.”

Ivanova nodded and they rose together, still holding hands. “I'm glad we had this time to talk, John.” She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. There was more she wanted to say, about how much she would miss him and how unfair it was he was leaving now, but she stayed silent.

Sheridan placed his lips gently against her temple. “Me too. Take care, Susan.”

With that, and without a backwards glance, he walked off, hands clasped behind a straight back, like he was going for a stroll in the part, and with a heavy heart, Ivanova watched him go.

Sheridan could feel her eyes on him long after he was out of sight and he could guess the range of emotions Ivanova was going through in that moment. He wished he could stay and help her, but just as Sinclair hadn't had a choice in his life, Sheridan no longer had a choice either. His time was up.

“You look very handsome.”

Delenn's voice startled him and he closed his eyes. He thought they had said their goodbyes the night before, hadn't planned on seeing her again, but obviously she had other ideas as usual. “And you look gorgeous,” he replied as he finally set eyes on her.

“It seems custom to dress up in one's best on a Sunday,” she told him with a smile.

“Indeed.” With a resigned sigh, he went to her and pulled her to him. “I thought we agreed not to do this.”

“We did,” she murmured into his chest.

“Couldn't you have listened to me just this once, Delenn?”

“No, John, I could not.” She sighed as she listened to his heartbeat. “Though I thought you would have been here sooner. I've been waiting for some time.”

“Susan was waiting for me.”

Delenn pulled back and looked up into her husband's eyes. “And?”

Sheridan nodded. “We talked, we apologised, we made up. I also told her about Jeff being Valen but didn't tell her the rest.”

“Good.”

“She will be okay, won't she?”

“I am sure she will be fine.”

“Good.” Sheridan pulled Delenn to him again, realising he needed a few last moments with her. “It's time for me to go.”

“I know.” Reaching up, she pulled him down for a sorrowful, lingering kiss. “It is a lovely day...for a Sunday drive.”

“It is indeed.”

So much more to say, yet no need for words at all, and not wanting to delay any longer, Sheridan slipped out of his wife's embrace and headed towards the flight pad. He had his own appointment to keep now.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Before that trip to Minbar, Ivanova would have said nothing could have surprised her any more. She didn't realise just how wrong she was. Her reconciliation with Sheridan had been painful and emotional to say the least, and stoked regrets in her she hadn't realised were there. But his revelation about Sinclair – which was recent to him as well – was mind-blowing, and Ivanova realised she didn't know how to feel any more. She wished Sheridan was still there, wished he hadn't had to leave at that particular moment; for the first time in almost twenty years, she needed him to be the friend and brother he had always tried to be. She needed someone to help her wrap her head around what she had just learned. She had spent two decades hating the man she loved, blaming him for everything that had gone wrong, and being angry with him, only to find that he had not died in vain, needlessly, or heroically. In fact, Sinclair hadn't died at all.

No, he had taken Babylon 4 back in time.

That in itself was just confusing, but that wasn't the worst of it.

No, he had done that so he could become Valen.

Ivanova was almost sure she preferred thinking he was dead.

So many things made sense when Sheridan had told her that, so many things clicking into place at once, and he said the same thing happened to him. That was why Sinclair could not be allowed to die on Z'ha'dum, that's why he was in charge of training the Rangers despite being human, that's why he talked like a Minbari.... His life was all mapped out before he had been born, his destiny preordained. He never had any choice in anything.

As Ivanova sat alone staring out at the rising sun, she felt herself letting go of the burden of bitterness and negativity she had been carrying around with her for twenty years. She closed her eyes, looked deep inside herself, and truly forgive Sinclair for leaving. She threw away the baggage that had been weighing her down for so long and decided it was time to start living again. She would still miss Sinclair, she always would, but if destiny was right, they would meet again in the next lifetime.

“I was hoping to catch you before you left.”

Ivanova opened her eyes and found herself staring right at Garibaldi. “I wanted to see you too.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

She nodded. “In the short time since arriving, I have come to realise a great many things, Michael, and I want to apologise for being such a bad friend. When you needed me, I wasn't there for you, though I could have been. But seeing you again so soon after Jeff....” She swallowed. “It was too much for me. You reminded me of him too much.”

“I get it. I understood then and I still understand now. Despite how far we might have drifted, I've always understood why you did what you did. I didn't like it, and it hurt like hell, but I understood. Hell, I felt the same way.” Garibaldi pulled up a chair and sat opposite Ivanova. “How do you think it was for me seeing you? It was like looking at Jeff, you know. And yet in a time we should have been pulling together, we were drifting apart. And I don't just mean me and you, I mean all of us. It's like Jeff was the glue that held us together and without him....”

“He was a great man.”

There was a catch in her voice that made Garibaldi study her more closely. “Have you forgiven him finally for doing whatever it is he had to do?”

Ivanova smiled and it warmed Garibaldi's heart to see as it was like looking at a long-lost friend, which was almost true. “Oh yes.”

“And you still love him.”

“I always will. Although I am a little jealous.”

Garibaldi frowned and did a double take. “You're what? Jealous? Why?”

Ivanova closed her eyes and then laughed. “I guess there's no harm in you knowing now.”

“Knowing what?”

“I've only just found out myself. John told me before...before he left.”

Pain flickered across Garibaldi's face. “He's gone?”

Ivanova nodded sadly. “He left a short while ago. We talked before he went, though. We made our peace.”

His expression softened. “That's good. So, what were you about to tell me?”

She took a deep breath. “It seems Jeff didn't die. He took Babylon 4 back in time to fulfil a preordained prophecy and become Valen.”

There was a long silence before Garibaldi exclaimed, “What?” in a loud voice.

Ivanova laughed again. “I think that must be the standard reaction.”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, then laughed as well. “I suppose that explains a few things.”

“It does.”

“And you're jealous because....?”

“Michael, please.” She rolled her eyes. “Valen had children, and he didn't manage it on his own. I just...I always thought that some how, we would be together in the end.”

Garibaldi reached forward and took both her hands in his. “I'm sure Jeff never forgot about you, Susan, and never stopped loving you. I know how strongly he felt about you, and I can guess how painful it must have been for him to leave you.”

“I know, and I know that as Valen, he had to have a lineage. It was necessary. But you know what hurts the most, Michael?”

“What?”

“That the next time around, when he's Jeffrey Sinclair again, I'll have to go through all of this again.” Ivanova shook her head. “How many times have I lived it already? How many times have we all been through the same heartaches?” She started to cry, something she knew would happen, and was gratified when Garibaldi enveloped her in his arms. “I'm so sorry, Michael. Can you forgive me?”

“If you can forgive me for being an ass, for all the dumb things I've ever done,” he replied, rubbing her back.

She nodded. “If there was ever a person who needed forgiveness and love, it is you, and I'm glad you are finally happy.”

They pulled apart a few moments later. “So we're good?”

“We're good.”

He swiped at her cheek with his thumb. “No more of these, okay? I hate to see you upset.”

She just shook her head. “Not a chance. I have twenty years to catch up on.”

“Maybe I should go and find a bucket.”

“Maybe you should go and find breakfast.”

Garibaldi took the hint and stood. “Will I see you before I leave?”

Ivanova nodded firmly. “This time I'm not going anywhere until we've said goodbye properly.”

“Good.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

They tried not to make breakfast a sombre affair, although they were all keenly aware of what Sheridan's absence meant, yet despite their best efforts at levity, there was a feeling around the table that this would be their last meal together.

“So I was thinking, maybe you guys could come to Mars for Christmas,” Garibaldi suggested in a mild voice. “And New Year.”

Franklin looked at him. “Really. With our great track record of Christmas' and New Years,” he said dryly.

“I am afraid I cannot make it,” Delenn told him apologetically.

Garibaldi looked at her. “It's months away, how can you be sure?” She reeled a list of religious events and Alliance meetings that had already been planned, and he held his hands up in surrender. “Alright. Susan?”

“I don't know, Michael. Maybe.”

“Stephen? You'll be there, right?”

“I don't think I will.”

“Fine,” Garibaldi muttered, stabbing at his breakfast.

“Is it so important to you that we are together?” Delenn asked him fondly.

“I don't know. I mean, sure, but...it just feels like we should do something on a more regular basis, you know?”

Ivanova smiled at him. “Don't try so hard, Michael. Just let it be what it is.”

Garibaldi stared at her for a moment, then glanced sideways at Franklin. “It's catching,” he said in a loud whisper.

Franklin laughed a little and shook his head, and the conversation moved on until they could delay the inevitable no longer. “I suppose we should be leaving.”

Ivanova looked at them both. “So soon?”

Garibaldi pulled a face. “Unfortunately, yeah. You'd think a multi-million credit business would run itself.”

“Thank you for coming,” Delenn said simply as they all stood.

Ivanova swallowed hard as tears welled up again. “Can't you stay just a while longer?” she asked them both. “We just found each other again.”

Franklin moved first, embracing her firmly. “We'll see each other again, Susan,” he promised. “And we'll keep in touch.”

She nodded. “We will.” She turned to Garibaldi. “Michael.”

He smiled sadly. “Hey, what did I say earlier?” he asked as he pulled her close to him.

“I told you there was no chance,” Ivanova replied as she cried onto his shirt front, holding him tightly. When they pulled apart, she saw the wet stain and pulled a face. “Sorry.”

Garibaldi waved the apology away. “A new shirt I can get, a new you would be impossible.”

She made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob, and embraced him again. “Take care, Michael.”

“May Valen go with you, Susan,” he said, far too innocently for Ivanova's liking.

She started laughing, as did Delenn, while the former security chief grinned broadly. Franklin, however, just frowned. “Why do I feel like I'm missing something?”

Garibaldi rolled his eyes. “I'll explain in the car,” he said, embracing both women one last time. “Take care and keep in touch.”

“You too, Michael,” Ivanova replied.

Franklin did the same, and then the two men walked away. All that could be heard from them was the doctor complaining, “How come I'm the last to know anything around here?” and it made her think of so many other times when he had uttered something similar.

“When will you be leaving, Susan?” Delenn asked after a while.

“I'm not sure, unless you want me to go.”

The Minbari woman smiled warmly and laid her hand on Ivanova's arm. “You may stay as long as you like. This is your home too.”

Ivanova smiled back. “Thank you.”

“Are you alright?”

“I'm not sure. When I received your letter, I knew what it meant, yet I was tempted to say no. I just didn't want to see anybody. And now? Now I'm glad I came. I'm glad I got to make amends with Michael and Stephen, and John too. And with Jeff, in a way.”

“I am sorry I could not tell you earlier,” Delenn said.

But Ivanova shook her head. “I understand. I mean, I don't understand – how can Jeff be Valen? But I understand why you never said anything. It's okay.”

“There is a temple in the city which is said to be Valen's place of meditation,” Delenn told her after a long silence. “Perhaps you would like to visit it?”

Ivanova thought about that long and hard, and eventually nodded. “I would like that. Are there any statues around of...of him?”

“Yes, but you will be hard pressed to find a resemblance.” The Minbari smiled. “Believe me, I have looked.”

“I'm just curious.”

“Would you like directions?”

Ivanova shook her head. “No, thank you. I think I'll just wander for a while.”

“Then I will see you later.”

“Delenn, will _you_ be alright?”

Delenn nodded. “John and I have had twenty years to prepare for this moment, and though it will be hard, I know it is not the end. We will meet again in the next lifetime.”

Ivanova put her arm around her shoulders. “I can stay longer, if you like,” she said, ignoring the stab of pain at the Minbari's words.

Delenn returned the embrace. “You may stay as long as you feel necessary, but I will be fine.”

“What will happen to the Rangers?”

“I am not sure yet.”

Ivanova nodded in silence, a plan forming in her head. “I won't be long,” she said eventually.

She spent a few hours in the city, wandering aimlessly around the streets looking for signs of Valen, and in Valen, signs of Jeffrey Sinclair. She found the former but not the latter; each drawing or statue was different, and she remembered something Delenn had told her a long time ago. Valen was a very prominent, important figure in Minbari society, yet a private man at heart, and so it would make sense that any representation of him would be an artist's impression only, perhaps even done after his death, and it made Ivanova sad. After she had learned the truth, she had hoped to find a connection to Sinclair again, but it seemed her search was in vain. Perhaps she would have more luck with the Rangers; after Delenn had admitted there was no one in mind to take over the role of Entil'zha, Ivanova thought she would offer her services. In fact, she was surprised Sheridan hadn't asked her; not that she had any assumptions there were no others to choose from, but given her history and connections, she was the logical choice. There was no ego involved; it was just a simple statement of the truth.

“Susan, did you have a good morning?” Delenn greeted her warmly when she returned to the house.

“I'm not sure. I didn't really find what I was looking for, but perhaps I found an answer of sorts,” Ivanova replied, sitting down.

“And what would that answer be?”

“Delenn, how would you feel if I took over the Rangers?”

The Minbari woman could have laughed at the irony of it all. “John was going to ask you,” she admitted.

Ivanova frowned. “Then why didn't he? Did he not think I was suitable?”

“Quite the opposite; he had no one else in mind,” she assured the other woman. “No, the reason is much more...complicated.”

“I'm not sure I like the sound of that.”

The statement was very Sheridan, and Delenn felt a pang of sadness. “Perhaps you will feel differently when you have read this.” She handed Ivanova an envelope and embraced her at the same time. “Goodbye, Susan.”

Ivanova was left alone feeling very confused and her eyes dropped to the paper in her hands.

She began to shake.

It wasn't possible.

She closed her eyes, the familiar handwriting imprinted on her memory. It was from Sinclair, she knew that, but what could he possibly want to say to her? And why now, after all this time? Strangely, there was no temptation to not read it; instead, she ripped into the envelope and pulled the letter out almost eagerly.

And by the time she had finished reading, everything in her life made perfect sense for the first time. And for the first time, Ivanova knew she would finally know perfect peace and happiness. 

TBC


	55. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter hops around a little, I don't think I actually finalised it, so it might be a little rough around the edges. Hopefully it'll make sense, though!

_2281_

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Garibaldi received a transmission before he heard the news; at first he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Hadn't they just said goodbye to each other? He ran through the conversations he'd had with Ivanova before leaving Minbar, and none of them indicated she was going to...well, he didn't know. Had she disappeared? Died? No one knew what had happened to her, which was why they were talking to him. He was surprised and hurt all over again, but as he sat in his office, staring mindlessly at the paperwork before him, Garibaldi had a sudden idea one person might well know what had happened to her....

Franklin wasn't so lucky, which made him grumble once more about being the last to know anything. He caught Ivanova's disappearance on ISN; a high-ranking Earthforce General with such a distinguished career as hers couldn't just vanish quietly. He immediately tried to contact Garibaldi, but was told he was indisposed. Franklin sighed and closed his eyes. They had only just lost Sheridan, and even though that was to be expected, even though they all knew it was coming, it still hurt. But to lose Ivanova as well, so soon after they had started talking again.... Franklin didn't know what to make of it. But instinct told him someone who might....

Delenn endured the calls from Earthforce asking about Ivanova's whereabouts with her usual calmness and diplomacy. As far as she knew, the General had left Minbar some time ago. No, she was not aware of any change of plans for the General. Yes, if she heard anything, she would let them know. And condolences over Sheridan were received politely. Strangely enough, Delenn did not feel badly for lying, but then in her mind, she reasoned it that she was saving face for Ivanova, so it was allowed. She kept up the front until she received a communication of a different kind.

“Delenn.”

“Michael.”

Garibaldi took in her expression, tone of voice and posture all in one. “You know, don't you.” Statement of fact, not a question.

“Yes, I do,” Delenn replied. “And I will tell you, but not yet.”

And surprisingly, Garibaldi waited. Waited patiently until she contacted him again, and when he saw Franklin's face, he understood. “What the hell is going on?” the doctor asked with exasperation.

Delenn smiled fondly at him, though it was tinged with sadness. “I will explain everything to you, Stephen, Michael, but first I must ask you both to take vows of silence over what I am about to tell you. I think you will understand why.”

Garibaldi shrugged. “I have no problem being a secret keeper.”

“Neither do I,” Franklin replied.

“Good. I did not think there would be a problem.” Delenn took a deep breath. “You are both aware that Jeffrey Sinclair was Valen, yes?” Both men nodded. “And you both know that Valen had a family....”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

_In between_

Sheridan closed his eyes, squeezing out tears he was no longer trying to hold back. He had lived longer than he should have and he was grateful, yet he was still sad to leave, though he was certain that even if he'd had another twenty years, it would have been the same. He felt light and warmth and sound and feeling envelop him, and he sighed. Then he became aware of a familiar presence beside him and he opened his eyes.

“I am here, just as I promised I would be,” Lorien said.

“Strange, this doesn't feel like the next life,” Sheridan replied, slightly amused. “It feels more like limbo. I'm not sure I like it.”

“In a very real sense, it is,” Lorien told him. “We can stay here a little while. There is someone who wishes to speak to you.”

Sheridan frowned. “Who?”

Lorien smiled in the only way he knew how to: enigmatically. “You will see.”

As he faded, Sheridan could still sense a different familiar presence and his frown deepened. Then realisation hit him and his eyes widened almost comically as he spun round.

“Jeff...!”

“Almost,” the other man replied warmly.

Both men strode forward, clasping each others' hands with a strength belying their feelings for each other, and clapped their other hands on their shoulders.

“How is this possible? I mean...Delenn told me....” Sheridan trailed off, shook his head and laughed. “Can you stop doing that? It's pretty distracting.”

“Not exactly my idea,” Sinclair replied ruefully as his features shifted once more. One minute he was human, the next more alien looking, yet still familiar. “But I'll try. Which would you prefer?”

“Jeff,” Sheridan said softly. Seconds later, Sinclair's features settled in place, human but younger and unlined, carefree. Seeing him this way reminded Sheridan painfully of his own age. “Is this how you see yourself?”

Sinclair nodded, his hair longer and darker than before. “You look well, John.”

“I look damned old and I feel it too,” he retorted. “So what's this about, Jeff? I thought you were...you know....busy.”

“I am. There. I'm also here. Time has no meaning here,” Sinclair explained. “This is after my death.”

“But we'll go to different places, which is why we're talking in limbo,” Sheridan guessed shrewdly.

He nodded again. “I wanted to know what happened after...after I left. To Stephen and Michael, you and Delenn...and Susan.”

Sheridan looked surprised and worried. “You mean she didn't...?”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

_2281_

The thought she might actually be crazy crossed Ivanova's mind more than once as she travelled to Sector 14 in a Minbari flyer. She had left everything behind, taking with her only the letter Delenn had given to her hours earlier; there was nothing else of importance she had wanted to bring. Her medals, her citations, they meant nothing to her now; Ivanova was once more on a mission, but of a different kind. She was going to be happy, once and for all, even if it killed her.

She thought about Garibaldi and Franklin, about how they would take the news of her...disappearance, and it saddened her it had to be that way. It saddened her that they hadn't known the truth beforehand; if any of them had known the truth beforehand, it could have saved a lot of heartache, of that she was sure. Maybe next time it could be different...if there was a next time. Delenn would know....

Ivanova sighed. She had found a peace on Minbar she had never thought she would know again, and she had been prepared to give up everything in order to settle there and help with the Rangers, and keep Delenn company at the same time. But fate, it seemed, had something different in store for her.

She arrived in Sector 14 to see nothing, and she closed her eyes in an attempt to hold back the tears, but they came anyway. But she refused to give up hope, refused to leave. One way or another, this would be the end of Ivanova. Hours passed as she sat there, floating in space, until the oxygen began to run out, and when there was no more air, instead of the darkness she was expecting, there was a blinding white light.

Then nothing.

But in her mind, Ivanova could feel hands guiding her softly, could hear a gentle voice saying,“I'm here. You're not alone. Never alone. Don't be afraid.” But she wasn't afraid. In fact, she had never felt more at peace....

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

_In between_

Sheridan looked surprised and worried. “You mean she didn't...?”

“She never told me about those years we were...apart.”

Sheridan breathed out in relief. “She made it.” He lost himself in thought for a moment, going back over the conversation he'd had with Delenn before everyone arrived for one last dinner....

_“John, there is something you should know before you speak to Susan - and the others – about...about Jeff's...fate.”_

_Sheridan frowned. “What do you mean? He died on some secret mission, remember?”_

_“Not exactly.” Settling back, his wife regarded him affectionately and touched his cheek. “I will tell you a great truth, one which perhaps I should have told you long ago but couldn't. I hope once you know the truth, you will understand why.”_

_“Here we go,” he muttered. “Delenn, I thought we were done with all these secrets.”_

_“Not quite.” Delenn turned serious. “You see, Jeffery Sinclair was no ordinary human, nor was he just another human with part of a Minbari soul. He was special.”_

_“I know that,” Sheridan remarked dryly._

_“But you do not know why. I myself did not find out this until just before we went on that last mission with Jeff.”_

_“Find out what, Delenn?”_

_“Did you ever wonder why we were so insistent that we had to undertake that mission at that particular time when there was so much else going on?”_

_“Of course I did. Don't you remember how many times I tried to argue with you?”_

_She nodded. “We had no choice. The window of opportunity had almost closed and if it had...nothing would ever have been the same again.”_

_There was such a dreadful note of finality in her voice that Sheridan shivered a little. “Delenn, Jeff died...didn't he? On that mission?”_

_Delenn shook her head. “No, John. You see, Jeff is part of a prophecy that must keep reoccurring. He is one of the threads of the universe that is always woven in the same way. And so his fate was to always go back in time.”_

_Sheridan looked confused. “You're not making any sense. I know he went back in time with Babylon 4 to use the station as some outpost in a battle, and I assumed he died, either during that battle or on the trip back. What am I missing?”_

_“Yes, he did take Babylon 4 back...to the last great war with the Shadows. He did not die during the battle or travelling back in time.” Delenn took a deep breath. “We do not know when exactly he died, but we do know most of his life when he reached the point in the past he was supposed to reach, almost a thousand years ago. You see, John, Jeff did not carry just any Minbari soul; he had the soul of Valen. That was his destiny, to become one of the greatest Minbari leaders ever seen.”_

_Sheridan stared at her, eyes wider than possible, mouth open a little. “He...Jeff.... What?! Delenn!”_

_“I could not tell you because the others could not know, Susan in particular.”_

_“Don't you think it would have saved her, and the rest of us, a lot of pain if she had have known?” Sheridan asked in exasperation._

_“No,” Delenn replied firmly. “There is more.”_

_“There always is. Tell me.”_

_“Do you remember in 2261 when I had to return here to Minbar for some business? I said I wasn't sure how long I would be.”_

_Sheridan nodded. “I had the strangest feeling I would never see you again.”_

_“It is possible you might not have. You see, my clan opposed my decision to marry you, because....”_

_“I'm human and interracial marriage is forbidden for Minbari.” He smiled at his wife's surprised expression. “Yes, I have been paying attention over the years. I always wondered if it was something like that. So why did they let you in the end?”_

_“I entered what we call The Dreaming, and it showed me Dukhat's death. I couldn't understand why, until I realised Dukhat was trying to say something to me at the end. With his dying breath, he gave me a most important piece of information.”_

_After a lengthy silence, Sheridan looked at Delenn. “And?” he prompted, somewhat impatiently._

_She smiled at him and touched his cheek again. He noticed very recently, she had become more tactile around him, and he knew she was preparing herself for him leaving. “Dukhat told me why I was chosen to be on The Grey Council, and he gave me a reason why I should be allowed to marry you.” She took a breath, knowing what her husband's reaction would be. “He said 'you are a child of Valen'.”_

_“You are a.... What?!” Sheridan exclaimed, all but jumping to his feet. “But you just told me that Jeffrey Sinclair was Valen, so that means...how....” He stopped and took a deep breath. “Are you telling me that in...in some long-winded way, Jeff was...is my father-in-law?!”_

_Delenn looked suitably amused. “Well, yes.”_

_“I can see why you kept that to yourself,” he muttered, settling back down again._

_“I did not realise the full importance of it until after Jeff had left us,” Delenn told him. “And even if I had, I could not have said anything because I did not know how much he knew. As it was, it seemed he knew what was happening much sooner than I did.” Her expression grew melancholy._

_Sheridan took her hands in both of his. “I know, Delenn. I know.” He smiled sadly. “I miss him too. But this still doesn't tell me why you're against me asking Susan to take over the Rangers.”_

_“Ah. That is another great truth.”_

_“Great. Can I at least get over the other two first?”_

_“You did ask,” Delenn pointed out to him._

_“Don't remind me.” He sighed. “Okay, go on. Tell me this last great truth....”_

 

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

Soft hands guiding her, a gentle voice in her mind telling. “I'm here. You're not alone. Never alone. Don't be afraid.” But she wasn't afraid. In fact, she had never felt more at peace....

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

_2281_

Delenn took a deep breath. “You are both aware that Jeffrey Sinclair was Valen, yes?” Both men nodded. “And you both know that Valen had a family, a lineage that I am a part of....”

“What?” Garibaldi and Franklin exclaimed at the same time, their expressions almost identical.

Delenn laughed a little. “I'm sure you can understand why I kept that information to myself.”

“I'll say,” Franklin muttered.

“Even John did not know until recently.”

But Garibaldi had stopped listening. Something he and Ivanova had talked about while on Minbar came floating back to him, a comment about her being jealous, and suddenly a wild and yet completely believable idea came to him. “Delenn, where did Susan go?” he asked cautiously. “Or should I say 'when'?”

Franklin turned to look at him, only to realise they weren't in each other's company and sideways glances on a viewscreen didn't work. “What do you mean, 'when'?” But as he spoke, his eyes started to widen.

“You are correct, Michael,” Delenn said, knowing Garibaldi had reached the right conclusion, and she could see that Franklin wasn't far behind him. “Susan left Minbar and travelled to Sector 14, where I have it on good authority that the temporal rift was open for a short time. It is my belief that Susan entered the rift and travelled back a thousand years to become Valen's life partner.”

“Susan is with Jeff,” Franklin stated almost numbly.

“Yes.”

“And she knew this was going to happen?” Garibaldi asked.

Delenn shook her head. “I gave her a letter from Jeff after you had both left.”

“How do we know she made it?” Franklin wondered after a long silence.

The Minbari woman smiled. “Trust me.”

“I hate it when people say that,” Garibaldi muttered. “Okay, you know what? This is just one more weird thing to add to my list, and seeing as I've dealt with and accepted the rest, why not this too? Okay, Delenn, I'll buy it. Jeff is Valen, and Susan has gone back in time to be with him. They're happy, they're together, end of story.”

“Well, if Michael can accept it, so can I,” Franklin said.

“I know it is difficult...,” Delenn started, but Garibaldi cut her off with a good-natured laugh.

“No, dealing with the Lumati, that would be difficult. This? This is just the universe's perverse sense of humour, which I actually get, so it's all good.”

“We won't tell anyone.” Franklin reiterated the promise.

Garibaldi nodded. “Besides, who would believe us?”

Delenn smiled at them both. “Thank you. I hope we will see each other again soon?”

“Count on it,” Garibaldi said warmly.

“We'll certainly try,” Franklin added.

Without further words, the screen went dark and Delenn was left alone....

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

_In between_

_Sheridan sighed. “Okay, go on. Tell me this last great truth....”_

_“We know that Valen married and had children, but we never found any record of his wife, or his early family.”_

_“I know. I always found that strange. I mean, knowing who Valen was, I just couldn't imagine him marrying anyone else except for Susan,” Sheridan said, shaking his head._

_He lost himself in thought for a moment, thinking of Ivanova and all the time they had wasted by not talking; he hadn't realised just how much he had missed her until earlier that evening when his wife told him she would be arriving to his farewell dinner. His thought patterns jumped from one memory to another, some making him smile, some making him angry or sad. And eventually he realised Delenn had once again become silent. As Sheridan looked at her, he found she was watching him expectantly, almost amused._

_“What?” he asked._

_“For someone who has been Captain of Babylon 5, President of the Interstellar Alliance, and Entil'zha, you are incredibly slow sometimes, John,” Delenn chastised him._

_“Thanks,” Sheridan said sourly. “What did I miss?”_

_“I was explaining that Valen married and had children, but no records of her or his immediate family exist. We don't know who she was or where she came from.”_

_“I got that bit. And I said I couldn't imagine him marrying anyone other than Susan.” He spread his hands. “What did I miss?” he repeated. Again, Delenn fell silent and watched him, waiting patiently for him to connect the dots. His brow knitted in concentration, and then suddenly, his eyes widened. “How much longer will Susan be around?”_

_“Not much longer, I imagine,” his wife replied mildly. “I would think this is a farewell dinner for you both.”_

_“You think or you know?” he asked, trying to ignore the sadness in her voice, a tone that tugged at his heart._

_But Delenn just smiled. “I know.”_

_Sheridan was paling. “Delenn...are you trying to tell me...you mean to say....” He faltered for a moment, then exclaimed, very loudly, “Delenn!!”_

_She smiled. “Yes?”_

_“Are you saying that Susan will be going back in time to become...a Minbari, so she can be with Jeff...I mean, Valen?” His tone was a little more than mildly incredulous._

_“Yes.” Delenn laughed. “Why is that so difficult to believe?”_

_Sheridan spluttered for a while longer before becoming coherent again. “Because I'm still getting used to the fact that Jeff is my father-in-law, in some obscure way. Now I find out that Susan is my mother-in-law!”_

_The expression on her husband's face was too much for Delenn and she began to laugh long and loud. Sheridan stared at her, extremely put out, and was about to reply when something stopped him. Really, all he had discovered was that Sinclair and Ivanova truly had meant to be together and would actually get that chance, and that no force in the galaxy could have stopped them, even if anyone or anything had wanted to. He felt a small pang of sadness for Marcus, the young man who had loved Ivanova completely, who had given his life for her, but who had never stood a chance. And now he knew that Sinclair and Ivanova would spend the rest of their lives together...really, what more was there?_

_Slowly, Sheridan allowed a smile to spread across this face. “I hope she's giving him hell.”_

_Delenn smiled as well. “Quite possibly.”_

_“The others, will they ever know?” he asked...._

“John?”

Sinclair's concerned voice brought him back to limbo. “Sorry. Just thinking.” With a sigh, Sheridan told him everything that had happened over the last twenty years.

“Now I see why Susan never said anything,” Sinclair replied once Sheridan had stopped talking.

“I'm sorry, Jeff. We all should have tried harder, but it seemed that without you....” He shrugged. “Maybe next time we can do things differently.”

“Perhaps.”

They were both silent, lost in their own thoughts for a while, until Sheridan suddenly focused back in on Sinclair, obviously remembering something. “Oh, and the fact that I've been saying grace and prayers to you for all these years? Not funny!”

Sinclair laughed loudly. “They were greatly appreciated,” he told him with a grin.

“I'm sure,” Sheridan replied sourly.

“Michael...he's okay now?” Sinclair asked.

Sheridan nodded. “More than okay. He's doing really well, Stephen too.”

“And Delenn?”

“She's fine. She'll be fine. Our son is around, he'll look after her.”

“Your son?” Sinclair asked with a surprised smile. “How old?”

“He's...almost twenty, I guess,” Sheridan replied. “David is his name.”

“After your father.”

“And you.”

Sinclair stared, then his smile grew. “Who would have thought things would have turned out this way when we were back at the academy?”

“Tell me about it.” Sheridan grinned. “And how is Susan?”

“You mean was.”

“You mean...?” He shook his head. “This is confusing.”

Sinclair nodded in agreement. “Susan made the trip back in time. We were reunited not long after I made it back in time, less than a year. She wasn't best pleased with me at first.”

“I can imagine.”

“But she soon settled into her new life. We never spoke about the time we were apart; we only ever focussed on the good times.” He sighed sadly. “She died a few years before I did.

 

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

_The past_

Awareness. Instinct. She _was_ , but different. She felt different, but could not say how.

“Where am I?”

Sounded different too, somehow. And for some reason, she didn't dare open her eyes; the thought that she had actually been found and 'rescued' was just too much.

Then a voice, long since heard but unchanged. “Home.”

Her eyes opened slowly. Blue met brown, steel met velvet. “I'm going to kill you.”

He laughed loudly, equal parts amusement, relief, and pure joy. Amusement that after so long, and so many changes, she could still come out with something so distinctly Ivanova. Relief that she wasn't going to hurt him, despite her words; relief she wasn't as angry with him as she pretended to be. And pure joy she was actually here. He had, of course, had his doubts. And while he knew she had lived longer without him than he had without her, it still felt like a lifetime to him.

“Really?”

Ivanova – though she knew she wasn't 'Ivanova' any more – glared at Sinclair, who wasn't Sinclair either. Or at least she tried to. But she found she couldn't; she was too damned happy and overjoyed and emotional at seeing him again. Without warning, without checking to see who else was around, without worrying about decorum, she flung her arms around his neck, holding him tightly as she kissed him, kissed him as though he was the air she breathed and she had been starved of oxygen. And he kissed her back, with more passion than either of them had ever shown before, with more longing and urgency, and a touch of desperation.

“I thought I'd never see you again,” Ivanova said quietly when they parted, her eyes locked on his.

Sinclair, who was now Valen, brushed her cheek with his fingers. “I thought the same. But here you are.”

Ivanova nodded, then frowned. “Where exactly is here?”

Sinclair smiled in that familiar way that made her knees go weak, and he took hold of her hand. “Come on, there's a lot we need to discuss.”

“But we have time?” Ivanova asked, suddenly worried.

He nodded and squeezed her hand. “We have time.”

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

_2281_

Without further words, the screen went dark and Delenn was left alone. She ran her hands along the chair, John's chair, feeling more connected to him in that room than anywhere else. Her fingers ghosted along the edge of the desk, his desk, until they reached the side, and then down to the bottom most drawer. Opening it, she drew out a thin envelope with very familiar handwriting on the front, and after a few moments, she withdrew a single sheet from inside.

_Delenn,_

_I just wanted you to know that Susan arrived safely. It was an emotional reunion, although she was mad at me for quite some time, understandably so. I want to thank you for passing on my letter to her, and for keeping my secret for so long. I know it must have been hard for you, and I'm sorry for that._

_I miss you, old friend, as I do Michael and Stephen, and John. But it warms my heart to know that we will all be together again in the next lifetime._

_Be well, Delenn._  
With much affection,  
Jeff/Valen 

Delenn ran her fingers lightly over the letters, a ghost of a smile touching her lips. The note, like many other things, had arrived quite suddenly one day, without warning, but once she had read it, she found her faith in the universe restored completely. Knowing that things had turned out exactly the way they should have, the way they always had and always would make Delenn feel at peace. While she missed Sinclair and Ivanova, and Sheridan very much, she knew they would see each other in the next life. With a slightly melancholy sigh, she put the letter back in its envelope and back in its drawer, never to read it again. Now there was no need. There was only one thing Delenn needed to do now; go to sleep and wait for the morning so she could watch the sun rise.

**JS-SI-JS-SI-JS-SI**

_The past_

They have few possessions now and nothing of their former lives except two letters. One is never opened, containing information no longer needed. But one shows signs of wear, of being taken out and read on a number of occasions. Now, with a breeze blowing through the windows, the paper unfolds itself with a gust of wind, landing open on the desk for all to see....

_Dear Susan,_

_I can imagine the shock you will feel at reading this letter, and I can imagine your reaction by the end of it. I can't imagine what you have been through during our time apart; I know how many years have passed, and I'm so sorry it had to be that way. But it did. I hope that by the time I have explained everything, you will understand._

_When I left on the mission to take Babylon 4 back in time, I had no choice. It seems I had a preordained destiny that I couldn't avoid even if I wanted to. If I had done anything differently, I don't know what would have happened to the universe. I'm going to assume that Delenn told you of the reason I had to come back in time; why it had to be me and no one else. You know, Susan, that I have part of a Minbari soul, but what no one realised was that the soul was Valen's. I know, crazy, right? It tore me apart to leave you, Susan. I couldn't understand how the universe could be so cruel to either of us._

_But then the day after I arrived here, Zathras gave me a letter, from myself. It contained important information I would need to get me started in my new life as Valen, and it also told me something that made me want to burst with joy, although those months I spent waiting were the longest of my life._

_You see, Valen has to have a family, and for that to happen, I need a mate, a spouse, a partner. And it seems that the universe has chosen you, Susan. When I read those words, everything from the day I first saw you made perfect sense. We were, and are, meant to be together. If you want it that way. If you do, on the same day that Delenn gives you this letter, you need to fly to Sector 14, and you must be there by midnight, standard time. The temporal rift will be open briefly, and if you enter it at that time, it will bring you back to me, less than one year after I left._

_I hope you are reading this, and I hope you can forgive me enough to give me a second chance. I'm here, Susan. I'm waiting for you. I can't start my life without you._

_I love you,  
Jeff_

The halls are quiet, no movement at all, yet if you listen carefully, you can hear the wind whisper....

_And so, it begins._

FIN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope those last couple of chapters did justice to the whole thing. Thanks to all those who stuck with the story!


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